POP IDOL

This whole generation is consumed by the fact of

How a man’s reconstructed as a manufactured act.

Glued to the television, watching as he progresses

Time for a rain check … somebody stop the presses.

Everywhere you look there’s another man being moulded

Made to play a role and all that bullshit’s promoted

Till we’re sick to the bone with it, none admit to owning it

Look out for the strings attached to the hands and who’s controlling it.

It’s a devious man with a devious plan

To take the piss out of the people ’cause he knows that he can

And you let it happen over and over again

It started as a joke but now it’s turned into a game

Where the only winners are those who earn from your weaknesses

You lose again! But I guess it’s

In our nature to accept whatever’s promoted well …

That’s why they sell ’cause none of them can sing for hell!

They wouldn’t be where they are if none of this was organised

To suck the audience in, pull the wool over their eyes

So they can’t see what the plan is, psychology reversed

Make you feel a part of it … who came first?

Was it the manager, the artist, the label or the agent?

Chilling in their mansion while the real performers are slaving

Trying to make ends meet, trapped in the streets

Sinking in the concrete, drowning in their own beats.

Chorus:

Who put you where you are? Who made you a star?

Who bought you your house? Who bought you your car?

Who made you a household name? Who brought you fame?

Who said, “You can have it all if you just play the game?”

Bitterness brews … the hurricane’s coming

In the form of a human being, I ain’t leaving till the stage is bleeding

The groove in the record cut deep

I sleep with my eyes open and snore off beat

Just to confuse ’em, lose ’em in the frame

Repaint the picture, start it all again.

Where you can only audition if we sense the art is in your heart

Smell it in your breath when you perform, disregard

Jokers with no tone who never touched a mic before

Sang for the first time and signed the deal the night before.

Clean-cut images dressed to look the part

Trained to say the right things at the right time … no heart!

You might as well be an addition to the scenery

Blend into the background, act like you’re machinery

With the cheesiest grin and you wonder why we’re militant

Devil in disguise ignorant and far from innocent.

Chorus:

The gates are only open ’cause you’re young … it’s just begun!

For some it’s a way of life suffocated by how things are run.

The cookie crumbles; you ain’t got what it takes

You mime when you’re live, we can see it in your face …

Your background fabricated, a puppet in smart clothes

You might as well be Pinocchio, when you lie your nose grows

It’s plain to see you got no backbone and every song you perform

Is a cover of a song that’s been long gone?

A classic … you took it and you made it sound worthless

Destroyed what was once great, another classic is murdered.

It’s only a matter of time before you’re seen as the rat you are

Bound to be a backlash, you’re far from spectacular.

Who you trying to kid? Who you making all these records for

Sixty-year-old grand mothers and teens don’t know the score?

Who can’t make up their own minds suckered into promotion tactics?

Erase the nonsense and make way for the fantastic …

Chorus: