A long, long time ago...
I can still remember
How the music used to make me smile
And I knew that I had choices
That I would not hear crappy voices
And, maybe, I'd be happy for a while

But two-thousand made me shiver
With every singer they deliver
Bad news for the Red Ant
I couldn't help one more rant

I can remember when they lied
When I read about the comments snide.
But something wretched from deep inside
The year the music died

So good bye, to two thousand and five
Need some Advil hearin' Avril,
But the endings in sight
And these bad new waves of artists vocals I sigh
Sayin' " this'll be the year that it died "
" this'll be the year it died "

Did you sing a song 'bout love.
And do you have faith " In God We Trust ",
If producers sell your souls?
I do believe in rock 'n roll,
Bad music rapes my aural holes,
So now I reach to change the radio

Well I knew you're in love with him
' cause I heard you're pregnant and MILFin'
You all made front page news
Man, that's criticism and dues

I'm not the only person thinking " F*** "
And with no salvation from this musical suck,
But I know I'm s**t out of luck
The year the music died

So I'm wavin',
" bye-bye, to two thousand and five "
Dissed on Jacko but he's wacko
and that wacko has lied
Them good young boys were taking liquor and bribes
Wonderin' " will we have to testify ? "
" will we have to testify ?

Now for ten years we have all well known,
Michael's nose's flat as a paving stone
But that's not how he used to be.
In the eighties known as the king of pop,
Now the news is broken what a shock
And my voice said " This has to stop ",

Oh, and while the judge was looking down,
Has Michael tossed his horny crown?
The courtroom has adjourned,
No verdict has returned.
And while rumors play a major part,
Neverland's an amusement park?
And I swore curse words in the dark
The year that Michael lied.

So I'm writing
" bye-bye, to two thousand and five "
American Idol is dull
And the talent is dry
Paula, Randy, and Simon's humor is wry
They're cringing " this'll be the day that we die "
" this'll be the day we die "

Ashlee Simpson is a known lip-syncher
And danced like crap that SNL stinker
8 Mile sucked and wouldn't last
It landed square on it's a$$
The players hate it's just b!tchy sass,
With true artists* in cemetary casks

Now the half-time show was it Janet
Or Timberlake's plan to have planned it?
We all got just a glance,
But was it censored not a chance!
' cause announcers they made a shield
The FCC refused to yield
Do you recall what was revealed
The day the nipple flied?

And I'm writing,
" bye-bye to two thousand and five "
Went from Green Day to the Cold Play,
But the old way was fine
The good old days of hearing lyrics that rhymed
And writin' " this will be the year that it died "
" this will be the year it died "

Woe, and here we are all in one place
A generations bad disgrace
With no patience to hear again
So come on: Jimi Hendrix, Aerosmith!
Not trash that makes Red Ant sick
' cause covers are singers only friend

Woe, and as I watched them on stage
My shirt was drenched in spit from rage
New singers come from hell
It makes blood pressure swell
And as the lames climbed higher in the chart
It is such superficial art,
I swear satan's laughing in his heart
The year the music died

So I'm writing
" bye-bye to two thousand and five "
Went from hard rock to the soft pop
But the new pop's a crime
Them good ole days of hearing Williams and Cline
And writing " this'll be the year that it died "
" this'll be the year that it died "

I heard a girl who "sang" some "blues"
And asked myself " She missing screws? "
So I just barfed and walked away.
I went down to the Wal-Mart store
Where explicit lyrics are no more
Ev'ry man there said " Music's bad today "

And in the shows: the groupies' screams
The critics sighed, the artists' dreams
And the three men I admire the most:
Layne Staley, John, and Elvis's ghost
They caught the last train for the coast
Before the music died

And Amirighting,
" bye-bye, to two thousand and five "
Hope that next year's not like this year,
Because this year has died
And them great old songs hearin' Beatles were tight
Singing " Lucy in the sky one more time "
" Lucy in the sky one more time "

So I'm writing,
" bye-bye, to two thousand and five "
Hope that o' six is not amiss,
And that Paris would die
Them good old day of hearing classics of mine
Wishing " this would be the day for all-time ".