Million Dead - It's a sh** Business lyrics

Why call it an artform? It's lacquered karaoke with a Healthy c**aine 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 Wouldn't call it aesthetic Wouldn't call poetic Not even pathetic Might call it spade Industry Apothecaries Are poring over gaping wounds Inside my abdomen They're cutting out the Center area 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 listening options Something's moving But the pulse is dead Someone's speaking But the crowd has left So well-packaged And over-sold Still so tiring Still so cold Something moving Yet the pulse is dead Someone's speaking They left 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 head 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