When all the work is ineffectual,
And all the answers are conjectural,
And all the talent present actual,
But the reaction less than notable,
We need to make a public spectacle,
and get a table warm and turnable.
And then a beat that's halfway danceable,
So we can lay a track that's burnable.
Because the oldwave sound not sellable
and mp3 are all so shareable,
we have to find a tale that's tellable
and break a cycle that's not bearable.
An institution unassailable,
has made an error unforgivable,
What kind of fools we let them play us for?
We need to make a scene that's livable,
So we can write a track that's playable,
live a lifestyle that's sustainable,
I want to make place worth living in,
I don't want to start by bullshitting,
Those of you who think of giving in...
Here's the gate it's made of metal you can dive right in,
Put the pedal to the metal and just drive right in,
Arbeit macht frei, white collar man, so you can buy right in,
Pull the stick and start your dive then you can fly right in,
Point the barrel pull the hammer back and die right then,
Curse the day your momma made you and just die right then.