We're not what you think we are We make product and place it in stores But we're just selling our songs See you in hell! We'll pick you up by your ankles And shake you down for a record or two 'Til all the money is spilling out of your pockets And any beauty we create, we will sell it We've got your contrast, we've got your art And you can strum as fast as you like Can you feel it? The hint of rot right beneath the music? We never believed