Lyrics

Let's give fair credence to the critic The tumor tethered to the art Makers of taste by any other name would still be cowardly But it would be a lie to say I never give them any thought But if you missed out on the show You can watch the farce unfold And read about it all after the bump Before you go there, I'm a hypocrite How daft of me to share anything at all But if it's enough for you pan what other people do Take it to sleep, perchance to dream Perchance to die without a spark But if you can't face the end Maybe you should start a band But until then, get fucked Cheap and put on, the same as any con What could be worse? The worth of all your work, measure in inches Of unread columns and websites At least that car in the ad looks nice