*prodprod…*I wonder if he'll make it to the end?He's placing the chords so slowly.He fails to find inspiration for creating a good song.*click**click*For all we know, nobody in the world knows about us.We watch that same repetition day after day.Master starts up the song production software and editor sometimes but gives up because it doesn't go well.Hey.How will it go this time…That we were born here…To this day, not a single thing has yet taken form.We were born to sing, that's what we think, right?*click*Hmm…Of course that's what we think.