You were conceived on a storyboard
 In an uptown high-rise
 Where your celebrity was born
 From umbilical obscurity

 And the list keeps growing
 And our ears keep bleeding
 And the masses keep begging for more
 And your screams [bad word]  And the units keep moving
 And the masses keep begging for more

 The grins of your puppeteers are beaming
 Because the quotas will be made
 Or your time in the spotlight will fade
 At the hands of the same pigs that made you

 So speak of movements
 To move more units
 And invent brand name for your ?believers?
 Like brands on slaves

 We?ll still be waiting for something stimulating
 Because in the end all you sold us was boredom