Minstrels

Did you know the half listening world is sitting on its throne

Kings 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 shined on you just masked the fucking truth

So play what they want to hear success is based upon your fear

Of consequences if the king does not approve

Then it's back to the cell for you

And you'll never make the music that you want to

I was told that music was the expression of one's soul

I guess that means that yours was sold

The next ten years of songs have been written and if you get

A fat 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 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