Now, see? Right off the bat, right off the SALUTATION, I'm pissed. Daughtry. Is it your last name, or are you a one-name person, a la Cher? The first name Chris sticks in my head, so maybe I should have addressed this as "Dear Mr. Daughtry," but I really don't care enough even to Google you. Besides, this is how you appear when your "music" plays on XM Radio, so just Daughtry it is.
(You should know, before I get down to it, that I'm the kind of person who soaks up lyrics without trying. So maybe this isn't completely your fault, but whatever -- that's about as generous as I'm going to get.)
My basic question is, do you speak English? Because the lyrics of one of your "songs" would suggest otherwise. Every time "Home" comes on the radio, I feel like someone's locked me in a car, in which they've tied down the steering wheel and floored the accelerator pedal: I know what's ahead of me, but I can't do a damn thing to avoid it. The song for me is one dark tunnel, and the wall at the end of it goes like this:
Be careful what you wish for
'Cause you just might get it all
You just might get it all
And then some you don't want.
Hm. Allow me to break this down for you, Mr. Just Daughtry.
Be careful what you wish for ...
Ok, a little trite, but so far, I'm getting it. This phrase is one anyone has heard before, and we grasp the gist of it -- you're letting us know that any desire has a flipside, one that may have dark implications. I got you, Just Daughtry. Let's move on.
... 'Cause you just might get it all ...
Oh, ugh. You spelled it all out. See, even in the second line of this four-line disaster, the mystery's gone. If only that were the major crime.
... You just might get it all ...
Aaaaaand you felt compelled to make SURE we knew the mystery was gone. So far, you've offered a mildly-worded warning that asked us to use our brains (the same brains we'd need to actually recognize the dark side of our deepest desires, which is what you're warning us about), and then you've made it completely unnecessary for us to think at all. Which means maybe now we won't be heeding your first-line advice. Not so much well-played, there. But the kicker is yet to come.
... And then some you don't want.
Really? REALLY? Because you'd pretty much already told us that. And by stating it right out in the open like this, I don't know whether you've given me a double-negative of a warning that's just turned out to be a not-warning (whatever the eff that might be), or whether you really are such a blockhead that you don't REALIZE that "be careful what you wish for" contains within it EVERYTHING YOU SAID IN THE REST OF THE CHORUS, or ... what. What I'm getting at is, this chorus makes me wish my head would just implode already. And if there really was a wall at the end of the tunnel of this song, I would welcome the effing crash, just to get the twisted logic of the lyrics out of my mind.
And so, Mr. No-Just-Daughtry-Because-I-Want-To-Be-Considered-As-Cool-As-A-Lot-Of-Other-Artists-Who-Are-Out-Of-My-League-Like-Prince-And-Sting-And-Madonna, I want you to know that if you get really busy with, say, yardwork or getting your online bill payments set up and you get too busy to write something new, I'm ok with that.
And by that, I'm implying that you stink. Just in case you were wondering what I was getting at.