I tried to call you but you were gone
Way too busy stickin' the labels on
Deciding who will swim in the talent pool;
and what is cool
Cultivating more popularity
Overly concerned with what not to be
Trendy little fashions that please the eye;you'll televise
Whatcha gonna do tomorrow?
Whatcha gonna do when it's over?
I just don't fit into the clique
You're so hip you make me sick
Whatcha gonna do tomorrow?
Pay no attention to quality
Churning out the pap like a factory
The only standard is how ya feel; not what is real
You never heard a word that I said
Totally convinced that the sound was dead
Creating categories that fit the times; condition minds
You move them in and move them out like they were cattle
Burn a brand into their hide
With all apologies to L.A. and Seattle
Cloning is artistic suicide
Cowboys Galactic - Another Hill Lyrics
Cowboys Galactic - Another Hill Lyrics
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I tried to call you but you were gone
Way too busy stickin' the labels on
Deciding who will swim in the talent pool;
and what is cool
Cultivating more popularity
Overly concerned with what not to be
Trendy little fashions that please the eye;you'll televise
Whatcha gonna do tomorrow?
Whatcha gonna do when it's over?
I just don't fit into the clique
You're so hip you make me sick
Whatcha gonna do tomorrow?
Pay no attention to quality
Churning out the pap like a factory
The only standard is how ya feel; not what is real
You never heard a word that I said
Totally convinced that the sound was dead
Creating categories that fit the times; condition minds
You move them in and move them out like they were cattle
Burn a brand into their hide
With all apologies to L.A. and Seattle
Cloning is artistic suicide
Way too busy stickin' the labels on
Deciding who will swim in the talent pool;
and what is cool
Cultivating more popularity
Overly concerned with what not to be
Trendy little fashions that please the eye;you'll televise
Whatcha gonna do tomorrow?
Whatcha gonna do when it's over?
I just don't fit into the clique
You're so hip you make me sick
Whatcha gonna do tomorrow?
Pay no attention to quality
Churning out the pap like a factory
The only standard is how ya feel; not what is real
You never heard a word that I said
Totally convinced that the sound was dead
Creating categories that fit the times; condition minds
You move them in and move them out like they were cattle
Burn a brand into their hide
With all apologies to L.A. and Seattle
Cloning is artistic suicide