Million Dead It's a Shit Business Lyrics:
why call it an artform? it's lacquered kareoke
with a healthy cocaine habit and a make-up
department. why call it composition? it's kids
entertainment with a coterie of groupie yes-men
pushing 'issues' on the easily bemused. and i
wouldn't call it aesthetic or poetic, not even
pathetic, but i might call it a spade. industry
apothecaries are poring over gaping wounds in my
lower abdomen. the blistering remedy retards my
recovery - they're cutting out the liver unaware
of what it does. can i make a confession? after
the operation i am certainly not satisfied with my
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listening options. there's something moving but
the pulse is dead. someone's speaking but the
crowd has left. it's so well-packaged and
over-sold, but still so tiring, still so old. and
every teenage afternoon spent rifling racks in
record stores in search of gold, and every
compilation tape rerun until it broke on rusted
walkman heads, and every single special song it
only took two listens through to learn the words -
were hours cherished and lessons learned. but
you're the kids in the playground pulling hair and
pointing fingers because your parents couldn't
spoil you with self-esteem. it's in the look in
the eyes, you are a dog in the hay, but we are
kicking you out a single beat at a time.
Lyrics: It's a Shit Business, Million Dead [end]