You Wrote This Song for Me

I object to this line of questioning.
There's something festering behind your eyes,
beneath your words, misplaced, and in my face.
You are not just telling me what you think,
but swinging some rusty axe that has been weighing you down;
Speaks volumes about your inability to understand
this scene, this struggle, that has existed so long before you
and will continue happily without you.
You remain so unclear,
you have no idea what this music's about
or why we stand here before you,
always striving, always melting, bleeding, crying
into these instruments.
And for what? Not you.
This has nothing, repeat nothing
to do with you and your ignorant ass or some
present image of some present scene of
some set rules as safe and boring as a ride on a carousel.
You have come to the wrong tree to bark,
and your wishes...
They fall on deaf ears.
And our wheels roll on,
and while you sit at home and wish that you could say the same.
What have you ever risked?
Pulled your heart out for the world to judge?
Created something out of nothing?
Punched holes in what used to be?
Set fire to what is supposed to be?
Then shut your mouth about what you want this to be.
We don't care!
We don't care!
We don't care!