Page 250 – Everybody for Everything

[Intro – low, conversational] They tell you it’s magic, but magic always asks for something back. [Verse 1] They learned early how to dress the ritual funny, three witches laugh while they siphon the honey. Maiden, mother, crone in a playful frame, call it parody so nobody calls it a name. A cat that can’t die, keeps coming back home, promise made gentle but it echoes in bone. Descendants locked into a favor unpaid, generational debt wearing cartoon shade. She says it out loud in a theatrical voice, “We take life force,” like there’s still a choice. Line slips past kids wrapped in glitter and jokes, parents smile cause the theater’s a hoax. Costume hides doctrine, comedy hides creed, teach witchcraft softly while you laugh at the scene. They don’t need fear if belief walks in loose, just teach disbelief to be part of the noose. [Hook] Everybody for everything, nothing for free, smiles on the surface, hooks in the teeth. You think it’s entertainment, harmless and clean, but somebody’s always outside the scene. Everybody for everything, roles assigned, somebody profits off the fracture of mind. They sell you the dream, then bill you the seams, and call it success when nobody screams. [Verse 2] Celebrity faces drift in and out, famous for switches they never talk about. Mood swings labeled “art,” breakdowns called fate, but the body knows when it’s changing states. Scripts that fit a little too close to the skin, role written for someone already living within. Watching your own life through a window pane, wedding bells ringing but you don’t attend. That outside looking in feeling settles deep, like you’re borrowing a life you never keep. They repeat that role till it feels like you, train resignation as something true. Lead witch costume stitched with older signs, symbol language hidden in neckline lines. Fantasy genre, family crowd, but the subtext’s sharp if you listen out loud. [Verse 3] College Program posters sound like fate, “Step in the door, this will elevate.” Kids chase the dream from every state, catch a bus, give up sleep, take minimum pay. Disney housing, Disney rules, Disney hours, borrowed tools. Smile on command, don’t question too much, labor wrapped in a velvet touch. If you bring them an idea that actually works, watch it disappear under corporate dirt. They press it, sell it, scale it wide, you get silence and an empty line. Credit evaporates, contracts don’t bend, cause you worked inside, so the thought is theirs then. One designer said it straight with no disguise, “They’re using everybody,” no metaphor required. [Hook] Everybody for everything, nothing for free, smiles on the surface, hooks in the teeth. You think it’s entertainment, harmless and clean, but somebody’s always outside the scene. Everybody for everything, roles assigned, somebody profits off the fracture of mind. They sell you the dream, then bill you the seams, and call it success when nobody screams. [Verse 4] They scale that logic top to bottom line, from worker to star to mythic sign. Human beings turned modular parts, plugged into scripts and marketing charts. Exploit belief, exploit hope, exploit need, then call the system “family friendly.” When the illusion cracks, they blame the host, “Didn’t work hard,” “wanted too close.” But the pattern’s clean if you track it slow, everyone serves something they never chose. Some give labor, some give face, some give youth and disappear in place. The magic works cause the cost’s diffused, spread so thin it can’t be accused. No villain speech, no curtain call, just a smile that owns it all. [Outro – soft, resolved] They don’t need chains. They just need consent delivered early, with a soundtrack you trust.