Tell ’em your soup was too hot.

It hit your throat like lightning.

You couldn’t holler about it.

The shock was volcanic

and frightening.

They’ll have their doubts.

Will say you never cried,

you should’ve bellowed out,

we’ve heard Wolf too many times!

Those dreams you had in your head,

with the dimmed lights, paper bags and coats,

they stopped coming around.

Now, you have noisy visions.

There’s haunting behind your eyelids

and what you have now are missions.

Tell ’em you didn’t have a plan,

that where you slept was too cold,

it gave you writer’ brain freeze.

Tell them you have an idea.

They’ll ask you where did you go

and why did you leave.

Say, My inspiration is failure.

Say, my inspiration was Failure.

They’ll be listening then.

Be like the lightning with steaming hot words.

And do not forget,

most important of all these things,

never give ’em an excuse.

Never tell them your dreams.