1. |
Minimum Wage
05:10
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What's the point in being a tortured artist
If no one's watching you writhing on the ground
If you fell, would they even hear the sound?
I doubt it
You could somewhere new and change your name
To something pretty, maybe Jane
They'd all leave you just the same
Way
You could turn yourself inside out
Lay on the stage and choke up blood
People may laugh and they may cry
At this noble man you've become
Is that what you really had in mind?
Did you find out if this place pays?
Hiding behind the merchandise
You know you can't change a thing
It's a music business with no minimum wage
Always tune your guitar a little flat
Reaching out for something you just can't get
And the sweat rolling down your neck
Is gonna make you sick
Always looking for your cue
Does this sound the way it's supposed to sound?
They meet you with a furrowed brow
Hand me my Pitchfork crown
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2. |
NE
04:27
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3. |
Dylan's Dream
03:07
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Young Ritual Flint, Michigan
Nervous energy draped in a blazer. Eyes wide at the thought of alleviation. Americana from the basement.
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