lyrics
The trinkets in your studio are piling up with dust,
And your musical self-portrait wears a face of mild disgust.
That passion that you had for it, well you will not get that back,
And thus the hearts of all your followers slip away with each track,
But still the late night host says, "now, sir, I really mean this,"
And then he strokes your ego and you show him your genius.
Now you've got a message, you are preaching to the masses,
So give the kids a lesson through your new sunglasses.
You rode in on your high horse but now,
It's time to saddle up this golden cow.
Your blogging and your tweeting really made me think.
How happy you must be now that your shit don't stink.
The same day that you're shouting about all the world's ills,
You're complaining that they do not make cash in larger bills
Now you're starring in the show,
Now you're here to rock the vote,
Now you're learning tuvan throat,
Now you're shopping for a boat,
You are giving up the drugs,
You are buying Persian rugs,
Got your girlfriend some new jugs,
Trading in your Frys for Ugs,
Signing copies of your book,
Publicizing your new look,
Spouting off about the famous shaman whose left hand you shook.
You rode in on your high horse but now,
It's time to saddle up this golden cow.
Your blogging and your tweeting really made me think.
How happy you must be now that your shit don't stink.
I digress from this protest
To thank my friends at Motorola,
And let us pause from our cause for a round of applause,
In appreciation of our sponsor - Coca Cola
You rode in on your high horse but now,
It's time to saddle up this golden cow.
Your blogging and your tweeting really made me think.
How happy you must be now that your shit don't stink.
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