When books were written to move us, not units When films were more than just reboots for tickets Commerce has turned a corner, Artistry’s crammed in the backseat
One is content and one’s commercial, I suppose Which is content and which is commercial? I don’t know Throwing a guilty party, eating crow out on the balcony Crying, “listen to me!”
They killed the radio station long ago They’re killing the brick and mortar nice and slow We’re slumming in an art form Based on the three minute earworm
One is content and one’s commercial, I suppose Which is content and which is commercial? I don’t know Stuck at this guilty party, struck by a plaque in the bathroom It quipped, “Art is Pure Shit”
Oh god, to write with no audience in mind Oh god, to write just because you have to write It’s a fool’s errand at best Lest you commit to your base self — art is pure shit
Content conmanTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
