Brows furrowed, straightened shoulders
Standing at attention, studious soldiers
Salulting the tabloids, business-men, and rights holders
They're all just bowing down to American pop-culture

Artists become robots, just counting on father time
To pay for the Maserati, just sign on the dotted line
Integrity out the window, put the fans in pain
There's no food for thought so the artists starving the brain

All they want is the cream, Eric Clapton would be ashamed
Religion is big business and holy water is fame
They want adults and minors to all Remember the Name
Funny how the industry's treated like its a game

Management wastes their time, talking to record labels
Painters don't get to paint and devils used to be angels
Singers don't get to sing and curves become angles
Rowers don't to get to row and boats are unstable

Gays ostracized, women objectified
Religions are laughed at, truth is classified
So called "artists" are crying about bottles and cribs
Sounding like babies, get these kids their mama's and bibs

Magazines with trash talk and gossip becomes the bible
In Interscope we trust, the artists become disciples
Sellouts become rich and talent's without a home
Managers out hungry for Excalibur's stone

Artists fight with each other over a few mill'
Because some are successful, some aren't, and some killed
Some dreams go empty, never caught, and some filled
But an artist is an artist, whether low or high skilled

So when art loses emotion and money gets in the way
We're all just blind followers at the end of the day
So when we all lose sight of whats important in pop culture
We all salute, we stand at attention, we're all soldiers