Title: Music Is My Own Form Of Protest
Subtitle:
Artist: Satum's Pals
Album:
Author:
Copyright:
Tabled by:
Instructions:
Notices:
Tempo: 118 BPM
Tracks: 3
Instruments:
Bars: 24

Lyric

And when the underworld's best kept secret saw it's own reflection
I knew things had finally changed (for better or worse, whatever as always)
when the mid-life fires start to burn and burn down our one protection,
I won't take pictures from their frame (whatever as always)

when the hands that sold me everything, slapped a price tag on my chest
I bit my tongue and shut my mouth, tried to blend in with the rest
but I'm a square peg, I'm a sore thumb
and it seems to me this apathy kills the life in artistry
and leaves us ankle deep in industry

All these songs sound so damn good, even if their meaning's hollow
but hollow words dry out your mouth
you might find it hard to swallow
all the shit that we keep feeding, to keep ourselves and you believing
that no money could change us then a door opens up and some devil persuades us

the songs we sung when we were just young have all but lost their meaning
but there's still a few things that we keep on believing…

shitty music just ain't worth makin'
smiles and thank-you's just ain't worth fakin'
some assholes' hands just ain't worth shaking
and if it ain't broken, we need to break it

there's no such thing as unconditional, no contracts bind you in the end
make no mistake, this is a killing ground
blood-hungry and camouflaged as friends
select 'yes' at the end of this mess…
if you get there
and it's your only fucking 'option' left

these days I don't know the people I'm supposed to trust
and I don't trust these people that I'm supposed to know
the handlebars on my dreams slowly start to rust
they'll take everything and somehow you still owe
as the cocaine cowboys finally get their wings and sell them all for blow

these days I don't know the people I'm supposed to trust
and I don't trust these motherfuckers that I'm supposed to know
the handlebars on all my dreams, they slowly start to rust
as the cocaine cowboys finally get their wings and sell them all for blow
I make music for myself
not for hat tips from the upper-tier and their undeserved wealth
here's to their failing fucking health…

I don't mean this in a hateful way, but when the people you love start walking away
the walls gets tighter each and every day
you better take your last bite before it crumbles away
and there's something inside me I just have to say
love nothing, trust no one, just live for the motherfucking day