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What's the point of fame
Except to reinforce the social hierarchies we oppose
What's the point of a name
If it just becomes something that you drop
When you feel insecure
And you're not sure
If everybody in the room will have heard of your band before
And you're on tour
And haven't seen a friend in at least a couple of days
Let me count the ways that I abuse the privilege
Granted to me by this mandolin
And my white skin that bought me my first guitar
Everybody told me boy you're bound to be a star
Oh yes you are
Boy you're bound to be a star
And like every major threat
They somehow find a way to buy it
They co-opt what we create
While they get rich and we deny it
The TV tells us there are stars and fans
And there's just one way to make it
Follow the label's rules
Use the master's tools
And when the big deal comes you take it
You're selling hope to angry kids
Who think that you're the only ones
Who sing about what makes them sad
Who understand the way they feel
That's just 'cause your label pays
For multi-colored tour posters
So no one ever hears about
The kids doing it for real
And I'm so tired of these anarchist celebrities
Selling $10 shrinkwrapped CDs
Full of paper made from old growth trees
And I know that we all have our hipocrisies
This isn't about purity or punk rock points
It's about taking back what's left of our ideals
And trading in our egos for our dreams
And if I start to act like them
Please call me on my shit
'Cause sometimes I get jealous
I'll be the first one to admit
I've been brainwashed all my life
And now I'm trying to think for myself
I think that I might need your help

Text přidal Gepvun

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