I found a liquid cure for my landlocked blues - Conor Oberst

Little soldier, little insect
You know war it has no heart
It will kill you in the sunshine
Or happily in the the dark
Where kindness is a card game
Or a bent up cigarette
In the trenches, in the hard rain
With a bullet and a bet.

I'd rather be working for a paycheck, than waiting to win the lottery.
Besides, maybe this time it's different, I mean,
I really think you like me.

And me I'm in my bedroom drawing in my notebook
Because my hand thinks I'm an artist
But my heart knows I'm a poet
It's just words they mean so little to me.