| Song | Music Music |
| Artist | Eyedea & Abilities |
| Album | First Born |
| 作曲 : Abilities, Eyedea | |
| I'll be writing till I'm dead or maybe till I'm alive | |
| All the emptiness I've bled has only helped me survive | |
| Something melted inside when the tones hit my pulse | |
| And stifled the idle eagerness to grow into my clothes | |
| No one that I know is any longer good at actin' | |
| Like they comprehend the motive uncoated to feed the corroded passion | |
| Actually needs to stay eye level with the rest | |
| That's the least I deserve for the love that I've shed | |
| I've trudged through the sediment in search of the rhythm | |
| Dove soul first to bathe nude in its abyss | |
| Paid dues and made music my religion | |
| Now I listen, close my eyes, and forget I even exist | |
| I sing a bastard's tune, inspired by the noise | |
| The ship made before it sank and was finally destroyed | |
| I flaunt the grin of a man made for disguising a boy | |
| Who tried to avoid showing the cry in his voice | |
| But there's something special about the notes that he hears | |
| Those scales are redemption, unraveling repressed memories | |
| And when he breathes, a new energy enters and consumes him | |
| To heal his wounds and unseal his doom | |
| If only I could make you understand | |
| But words are just words so I can't | |
| The universe's deepest art form keeps my heart warm with influence | |
| I tell ya | |
| Ain't nothing quite as beautiful as Music | |
| To be an angel, you gotta earn your wings | |
| To control your own, you gotta burn your strings | |
| To hit blackjack, you gotta turn a king | |
| But to live forever, all you gotta do is learn to sing | |
| I get a pleasure that's inevitably immeasurable | |
| And I won't let it be rejected by no man | |
| Why does it have to be so damn difficult | |
| To live in the frame of a game that will slit your throat? | |
| But I've dug in the mud in search of the drum | |
| Dove soul first to bathe nude in its abyss | |
| Stayed true to the music, now my favorite thing to do is | |
| Close my eyes and forget that I even exist | |
| I hold this fistful of degenerate ideas | |
| For every genius that was murdered in the name of Jesus | |
| Still deaf to the bells that claimed to free us | |
| But I pay homage to my melody 'cause she's the sweetest | |
| The core of our spirit is naked | |
| The form of its lyrics are sacred | |
| Blanketed by the original sound of the inner vibrations | |
| I'm floating on the soft clouds of positive creation | |
| See, I can look at a painting and admire the colors | |
| Or appreciate any type of art that I discover | |
| But what I dig's invisible | |
| It's my teacher and I'm its student | |
| I tell ya | |
| Ain't nothing quite as beautiful as Music |
| zuò qǔ : Abilities, Eyedea | |
| I' ll be writing till I' m dead or maybe till I' m alive | |
| All the emptiness I' ve bled has only helped me survive | |
| Something melted inside when the tones hit my pulse | |
| And stifled the idle eagerness to grow into my clothes | |
| No one that I know is any longer good at actin' | |
| Like they comprehend the motive uncoated to feed the corroded passion | |
| Actually needs to stay eye level with the rest | |
| That' s the least I deserve for the love that I' ve shed | |
| I' ve trudged through the sediment in search of the rhythm | |
| Dove soul first to bathe nude in its abyss | |
| Paid dues and made music my religion | |
| Now I listen, close my eyes, and forget I even exist | |
| I sing a bastard' s tune, inspired by the noise | |
| The ship made before it sank and was finally destroyed | |
| I flaunt the grin of a man made for disguising a boy | |
| Who tried to avoid showing the cry in his voice | |
| But there' s something special about the notes that he hears | |
| Those scales are redemption, unraveling repressed memories | |
| And when he breathes, a new energy enters and consumes him | |
| To heal his wounds and unseal his doom | |
| If only I could make you understand | |
| But words are just words so I can' t | |
| The universe' s deepest art form keeps my heart warm with influence | |
| I tell ya | |
| Ain' t nothing quite as beautiful as Music | |
| To be an angel, you gotta earn your wings | |
| To control your own, you gotta burn your strings | |
| To hit blackjack, you gotta turn a king | |
| But to live forever, all you gotta do is learn to sing | |
| I get a pleasure that' s inevitably immeasurable | |
| And I won' t let it be rejected by no man | |
| Why does it have to be so damn difficult | |
| To live in the frame of a game that will slit your throat? | |
| But I' ve dug in the mud in search of the drum | |
| Dove soul first to bathe nude in its abyss | |
| Stayed true to the music, now my favorite thing to do is | |
| Close my eyes and forget that I even exist | |
| I hold this fistful of degenerate ideas | |
| For every genius that was murdered in the name of Jesus | |
| Still deaf to the bells that claimed to free us | |
| But I pay homage to my melody ' cause she' s the sweetest | |
| The core of our spirit is naked | |
| The form of its lyrics are sacred | |
| Blanketed by the original sound of the inner vibrations | |
| I' m floating on the soft clouds of positive creation | |
| See, I can look at a painting and admire the colors | |
| Or appreciate any type of art that I discover | |
| But what I dig' s invisible | |
| It' s my teacher and I' m its student | |
| I tell ya | |
| Ain' t nothing quite as beautiful as Music |