I Wipe My Ass With Showbiz

Live like a legend and die like an a*shole. You dance with the man, shake his hand, shine his shoes. The revolution rock hits sound like shit through your iPod. "Put fists up like like I got, now gimme the loot." How I tried to buy my soul back, but the devil bent me over for it. Got me curled up in the shower scratching the letters that read: Dear mother, I sold my soul for management. Fog blasts will not mask a stage act unnatural. Those timed jumps cause merch bumps, now guests list the suits. And past the smoke hands the backdrop, crowd screams holy mackerel. Verse-chorus, verse-chorus, a solo, then boom. How I tried to buy my soul back, but the devil bent me over for it. Got you curled up in the shower scratching letters that read: Dear mother, I sold my soul for management.