This is not Music!

Trying so hard not to be fake  
You forgot what real was  
Listen to songs because You want too  
Not cus' the radio thinks you should.  
 
Go stick your tunes on shuffle  
Turn it up for your friends  
Do those sounds represent you?  
Or do they represent trends?  
 
So let these words become percussion  
Banging against your eardrums  
Do you even realize what your saying,  
When you sing along to these songs?!  
 
Tell me if I'm wrong  
But it can't just be me  
This isn't music!  
It's high profit plastic mediocrity.  
 
Dress em in chinos  
Make em hum in harmony  
Their innuendos disregarded  
Due to fresh faced naivety.  
 
' Course we don't want to fuck your daughter Mam,  
That's not our game  
But if she gets backstage  
We'll make her glad that she came! '  
 
No musical passion just  
Quaffed hair and synchronized smiles  
Drowned in the fashion  
From elitist designer aisles.  
 
Crowned as the bastions of youth, Why?!  
You can't grow up properly  
When your fucking life is televised.  
 
Yet these warped lives  
Are scrutinized  
By the young masses  
To busy tweeting obsessively  
To revise for classes.  
 
They just want to be celebrities  
Want to be special, Heaven sent  
They've just been chosen  
Truman,  
A life of product placement.    
 
We need to wipe the slate clean  
So this quarantine is for free minds  
Who see through the mass appeal  
Who want their music to make them move,  
To make them feel.  
 
Right now music is tainted with  
Pop culture infection  
The results,  
Talent-less image whores  
Your "Beiber's" and "One Direction's".  
 
Well point me in their's  
And I'll send those fuckers  
Four different ways  
Why isn't everybody throwing bottles  
At these little bastards on stage?!  
 
I wonder how many lines these 'Artists'  
Actually wrote  
Except for their names on the dotted  
Fame exchanged  
For their souls.