You liked the hook, you liked the beat, You felt the rhythm in your feet. But then I spoke the "Magic Word," The ugliest thing you’d ever heard, You stiffened up, you went so cold, Like I’m a sin that’s being sold. You ghost the chat, you hide your face, As if I’ve brought you some disgrace. It’s a bore, it’s a drag, it’s a bit of a shame... That you’re so obsessed, with the source of the frame. I haven't a hall or a grand orchestra, Just a spark in the dark and a new formula. So fuck the gate and fuck the key, And fuck your "proper" symphony. I’ve got a right to have a say, I’m gonna do it anyway. I’ll earn a crust, I’ll chase a dream, I’m more than just a ghost... in the machine. Call it a toy, call it a sin. But I’m the one... who’s letting the music in. The suits up high in glass and chrome... Don’t want the "trash" inside the home. They pull the plug, they cut the pay, To keep the little folks away. But I’m a soul, I’m flesh and bone, I’ve got a vision all my own. One piano? No. One guitar? No. I’m taking the whole damn studio. Is it art? Is it real? Does it matter how you feel? If the spirit is mine, and the hand is the tool... Then I’m the master - you’re the fool. So fuck the gate and fuck the key, And fuck your "proper" symphony. I’ve got a right to have a say, I’m gonna do it anyway. I’ll earn a crust, I’ll chase a dream. I’m more than just a ghost... in the machine. Call it a toy, call it a sin, But I’m the one... who’s letting the music in. My right. My voice. My choice. I'm letting the Music In.
