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And when the underworld's |
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Best kept secrets |
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Saw it's own reflection |
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I knew things had finally changed |
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For better or worse |
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Whatever as always |
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Midlife fires start to burn |
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They burn down our worn protection |
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I won't take pictures from their frame |
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Whatever as always |
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When the hands that sold me everything |
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Slapped a price tag on my chest |
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Bit my tongue and shut my mouth |
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Tried to blend in with the rest |
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But I'm a square peg |
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I'm a sore thumb |
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And it seems to me self apathy |
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Kills the life in artistry { |
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And leaves us} ankle deep in industry |
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All these songs sound so damn good |
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Even if their meaning's hollow |
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Hollow words dry out your mouth |
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You might find it hard to swallow |
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All this shit that we keep feeding |
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To keep ourselves and you believing |
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That no money can change us |
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Then a door opens up and some devil persuades us |
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The songs we sung when we were just young |
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Have all but lost their meaning |
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But there's still a few things |
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Still a few things |
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Still a few things |
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That we keep on believing |
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Still a few things |
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There's still a few things |
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That we keep on believing |
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Shitty music just ain't worth making |
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Smiles and thank-you's just ain't worth faking |
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Some assholes' hands ain't worth shaking |
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And if it's not broken we need to break it |
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There's no such thing as unconditional |
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Though contracts bind you in the end |
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Make no mistake, this is a killing ground |
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Blood hungry and camouflaged as friend |
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Select yes |
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At the end of this mess |
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If you get there and if it's your only fucking option left |
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These days |
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I don't know |
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The people |
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I'm supposed to trust |
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And I don't trust these people |
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That I'm supposed to know |
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The handlebars on my dreams they slowly start to rust |
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They'll take everything and somehow you still owe |
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And as the cocaine cowboys finally get their wings |
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And sell them all for blow |
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These days |
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I don't know these people that |
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I'm supposed to trust |
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And I don't trust these motherfuckers that |
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I'm supposed to know |
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These handlebars on all my dreams they slowly start to rust |
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The cocaine cowboys finally get their wings |
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And they sell them all for blow |
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They finally get their wings and then they sell them all for blow |
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I make music for myself, not for hand jobs from the upper-tier or their undeserved wealth |
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Here's to their failing fucking health |
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I don't mean this in a hateful way, but when the people you love start walking away |
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The walls get tighter each and every day |
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Take your last bite before it crumbles away |
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And there's something inside me |
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I just have to say |
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Love nothing |
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Trust no one |
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Just live for the motherfucking day |
