Lyrics

I’m not Elvis Presley Christ
My face on plates
My name in lights
I’m no king of rock n’ roll
Curled lips, electric hips
But since the devil bought my soul
I’ve been on his radio

I’m no Bobby Dlyan star
When I’m patching my guitar
Just to watch the crowd thin out
When I turn my amps up loud
The answer has been
Reduced to three parts blowing in the wind

Was it something I said
Do you want me to write a song
Or pretend, life is perfect
Creativity is dead

Music used to flow
From grateful heart to grateful soul
Now there’s an itty bitty stream
Where you can barely dip your toes
And I can’t pay my rent
With a fraction of a cent

Who would dare to spot-a-fly
Thats been sitting on the wall
Where the industry decides
Who will and who will die
Until nothing is left
But the ghost of music’s last breath

Was it something I said
Do you want me to write a song
Or pretend, life is perfect
Creativity is dead

This is not the voice of god
Do what you will
Love who you want
If hear the angels sing
Be sure to dance and leave a tip
And forgive the notes that they get wrong