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Every time I'm told that I'm way too low to still make music, I dream
I don't need these folks, 'til the day I go into my grave I will stay dream chaser

I was cool
'Til I went to school
Kids made fun of me
Since day one I'd be making up stories
Shape it up son, as I play with a [four-string?]
I just love shenanigans
Can't I win once
I've been standing here
Haven't had lunch
Not as bad as your punch
Feels like a medicine ball
Was dropped off in my hands
But I'm letting it fall
Okay, I got it, I was a rascal, as*h**e
I'm all the above because I'm a last [?]—
Project. God said I'm special
So did my class
I'm going last, 'til that sh*t's broke
It's so stupid
Because the pistol, just go, click, blow, shoot it
And if the sh*t don't shoot
Thеn sit home, get stoned and spit morе music
Every time I'm told that I'm way too low to still make music, I dream (You just need to find something you love to do and then do it for the rest of your life)
I don't need these folks, 'til the day I go into my grave I will stay dream chaser

Where is a hand high
Man-to-man you people just stand by
I hate y'all
I get I'm spitting the wrong code
I'm living [?] sold—
Short, I just need a van to drive out to California with my band
Pants ripped, but I'm young and can't survive—
In an office, caught, where I plan my life
I need freedom
Met me in the middle
Treat me to a planet where the people aren't little
I just wan't to go
Man, I just want to go
Forget it
I'm dream chaser (x2)

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