Minstrels کے بول

Did you know the half listening world is sitting on its throne Kings and queens judging you from home And you're the minstrel in their court With looks like that who needs any support Those lights that shined on you just masked the fucking truth So play what they want to hear success is based upon your fear Of consequences if the king does not approve Then it's back to the cell for you And you'll never make the music that you want to I was told that music was the expression of one's soul I guess that means that yours was sold The next ten years of songs have been written and if you get A fat enough check you can buy yourself the next big fucking hit I'll play what i want to hear my passion lies in my own ears In another year the king may draw his gun Then it's back to square one And i could care less cause i've already won I thought that music was an expression of one's soul I guess that means that yours was sold And when you stand to sing it doesn't mean a thing