The Pathetic Anthem

Every performer is a preacher
— we need to make a living
By giving a piece of the pie
Look me in the eye — tell me you believing
Every performer is a preacher
Yeah we need to be adored
We’d say it’s giving and getting love
But there are worms in this old dove
Where there are 2 and 2 together
They start point their hand
We’re good — them bad
We’re glad — them sad
It’s all one — pretending
Some are really good in their preaching
Make me forget — all is respect
Fake untill you make the perfect mistake
And then hustle until your backbone brakes
Every performer is a preacher
But some I think are for real
Solid like brick or steel
The ones that make you feel
You got more love to give