Clap your hands for me
I promise I'm not pushing anything
My latest pyramid scheme in three part harmony.
I'm done hiding what I think about the crumbling music scene,
It's the latest public smoke screen
Because it's selling doesn't mean you can sing
I'm not afraid of failing, no
'cause my song's got feeling and I still got my soul.
And you can't tell me what I already know
'cause my words got meaning and I'm sending them home.
I spoke up but I doubt I'll do it again
I'll do just what they want, I promise I won't resist
And I'll write that song you can sing the first time through
You know, some real mediocre shit.
(ella, ella, ella)
And I'll be there to consult you, if a tragedy should hit.
And I'll make lots of money off it.
It's gotta build, build, build, gotta be more dramatic.
It's gotta build, build, build to be more dramatic.
It's gotta build, build, build, gotta be more dramatic.
'Cause nothing is worth it if it doesn't sell.
It's not the kind of trap I'll fall into,
Or maybe I will.
Give up and compromise, compromise
Give up and compromise, compromise
Give up and compromise, compromise
Give up and compromise, compromise
Give up and compromise, compromise