Squeeze & Blow (For Minimum Wage)

"Oh god... here we go again... lower the mic..." The walls... are sweating plastic... and the world is on fire... But the label wants a hit... so they hired... a liar... I’m dragging this dead goat... across a broken stage... Minimum wage... for this post-modern rage... Don't look at me... with that blank, cartoon stare... I’m blowing down this tube... and I completely... don't care. "So heavy..." You press on my sack... I blow on the pipe... The melody is rotten... and the casting couch... is ripe... Are we making music... or is this a cheap audition? 'Cause this physical labor... is a terrible position... Shoving air through leather... till my vision goes blurred... This is the single... dumbest thing I’ve ever heard. "Ugh, the things I do for money..." Constant squeezing on the sack... blowing on the pipe! Man, it feels like I am working... in the adult scene hype! Am I a musician... or a low-budget star? On my knees for the label... yeah, we’ve gone too far! Squeeze it hard... blow it long... make a little money... This dirty physical labor... isn't even funny! Sweating for the camera... uniform is cheap... Just cash the bloody check... before I fall asleep! "Artistic... integrity!" The drone keeps hanging... like a mechanical fly... While we castrate pop culture... and I slowly die... It smells like cheap whiskey... and unwashed regret... This is the closest to a workout... that I’m gonna get... Holding this bladder... like a desperate parasite... I’d rather be doing... absolutely anything... tonight. "Can we... cut?" We don't need a bridge... but the formula demands it... My lungs are collapsing... I don’t think they planned it... A punk in a kilt... with a snake... in her mouth... The whole production value... is heading straight south... Squeeze it one more time... for the corporate elites... We’re just two tired hookers... busking on the streets. "Brilliant... just brilliant..." "Hold on... stop. Stop the tape. I need... I need a breather. My lungs feel like flat tires... This bag is way too heavy, man. It's too much work. Seriously... Do I look like I'm in *that* kind of industry to you? My lips are numb. Whatever... three, four... let's just get this over with..." Constant squeezing on the sack... blowing on the pipe! Man, it feels like I am working... in the low-budget hype! Am I a musician... or a low-budget star? Chasing after the label... yeah, we’ve gone too far! Squeeze it hard... blow it long... make a little money... Sweating for the camera... uniform is cheap... Just cash the check... before I fall asleep! "You know what? Forget this. My lips hurt, my hands are cramped, and I feel like I just shot a bad parody movie. I am completely sick and tired of squeezing this stupid sack. It’s too much work. Find someone else for your weird audition. I'm going home."