It's your first album, you worked for years and put your best stuff on
You got a "Welcome", the record company says make more songs
You try to write but talent takes some time before you make it
It's writer's block but still you crank the tunes out anyway
That won't get played

Now you've got filler, filler songs
And suits don't give a rat's ass cause they sold it on your name
You're selling filler, filler songs
You're writing for your life but getting shriller, filler's the game

You sing a love song and realize it's all been done before
Another dumb song and you'll be in the cut-out bin in stores
You close your ears and hope that you'll get more inspiration
Mediocrity is near and "one-hit-wonder" comes to mind
You're out of rhyme

Your album's filler, filler songs
And no one wants to buy it for it's only got one hit
It's full of filler, filler songs
You're writing 'bout your life but it's no thriller, filler so light

No agents call
The fans start to move on to other bands
There's no recordin' the crap that you're crankin' out right now (Insipid fluff)
This is the end of your run

They're out to bleed you, the managers and sycophants you hired
No longer need you, once several albums in a row misfire
Your day is through, another one will be the flavor of the week
And on your tube we will see "Whatever happened to him?"
On VH-1

You wrote that filler, filler crap
And though you hit the Lotto once, it's not likely twice
Dude, it's all filler, filler pap
So kiss success goodbye and drink a Miller, chill 'er, spill 'er
Filler here on tap

(Rap section with Vincent Half-Price)

Compost lies upon this disc
You had a deadline and took a risk
Critics pan, they want your blood
A dozen tracks but just one good
And what goes up, it's always found
Eventually must come back down
And then you'll face the music Gods
And groupies will remove their bods
The lamest crap is on the air
But we won't hear your tunes up there
The grizzly ghouls from a law firm
Will shake you down and make you squirm
And though you try to remain hip
Your singing voice will quiver
For no lame artist can resist
The urge to pad with filler

(Hackneyed lyrics and laughter)