Sometimes it's easy to ignore, if it's forgettable Sometimes it's magic to the soul, claims you for its own But every now and then I hear a sound that breaks the spell Whoever puts that garbage on the air must love the smell
I can't do this People call it music But I'm not sure And there's a difference between a set of blueprints for radio And just plain noise
I turn my television on to pass me through the night I'm watching fools try to sing an awful song that didn't even rhyme I know some tool's just sitting at a desk pulling the strings They shove their garbage Axed out every ? the towers reach
I hate music If that's what you call music But I don't know Who approves the shit they pass for music on the shows There's no difference between the set of blueprints for radio And failure
There was a time you couldn't fake your game Turn the red light on and you delivered the goods Or you were chased off stage by someone else who could You were making magic or you couldn't make nothin' at all Nothin' at all
Well I hate music If that's what you call music That's for sure If you're amused by the polysonic zoo, well It's all yours Every day there's a new song being played that sounds like hell Whoever puts that garbage on the air must love the smell
You can listen to whatever you like I try and keep it bottled up inside But don't pretend it's not polluting the world As it plays on and on and on and on Somewhere they must have lost their way Threw their souls out for attention and fame Their taste is bad, their opinions are wrong They make awful shit, but the radio keeps bangin' their songsTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
