Minstrels

Did you know that the half-listening world is sitting on its throne?
King and queens judging you from home
And you're the minstrel in their court
With looks like that, who needs any support?

Those lights that shine on you
Just mask the fucking truth
Don't play what they want to hear
Success is based upon your fears
Of consequences if the king does not approve
Then it's back to the cell for you
And you, and you, and you, and you
Won't make the music that you want to

I was told that music was the expression of one's soul
I guess that means yours was sold
And the next ten years of songs have been written
And if you get a bad enough check
You can buy yourself the next big fucking hit
I'll play what I want to hear
My passion lies in my own ears
In another year, the king may draw his gun

Then it's back to square one
And I could care less 'cause I've already won
I've already won

I thought that music was an expression of one's soul
I guess that means that yours was sold
And when you stand to sing, it doesn't mean a thing
I thought that music was an expression of one's soul
I guess that means that yours was sold
And when you stand to sing, it doesn't mean a thing
I thought that music was an expression of one's soul
I guess that means that yours was sold
And when you stand to sing, it doesn't mean a thing
I thought that music was an expression of one's soul

I guess that means that yours was sold