Lyrics The Artist's Life - Haster

The Artist's Life

This city ain’t what they made it out to be-
They fed me praise, «Boy you’re gonna be something.»
Now I’m locked in this day job slavery,
And my degree ain’t amounting to nothing.
Drive on empty-
You’re gonna be a star.
You better make that currency-
Before the streets eat you up- go!
Welcome to the city of freaks-
Where the people base their life on lottery!
While they have you down on your
knees, they smirk and they say, «bitch please»
You aren’t the ones we chose-
But thank you for your try-
You’ll get it next time.
Now get out of my sight.
Cuz all we got are blistered hands,
And bruises on our pride.
Some dreams will never die,
This is the artist’s life!
They’ll force our hand to a signed 360.
They’ll bleed us dry,
Get it all on the table.
While other bands get the drop on the proceeds,
Just tell me once,
What’s the point of your label?
Drive on empty-
You’re gonna be a star.
You gotta bring that energy-
Or they’ll break their hearts
Bow down to the city elite.
The ones who control the scene.
While your kissing the ground at their feet- they laugh as they cross off your
name.
You aren’t the ones we chose-
But thank you for your try-
You’ll get it next time.
Now get out of my sight.
Cuz all we got are blistered hands,
And bruises on our pride.
Some dreams will never die,
This is the artist’s life!
Listen to me.
Listen to me.
Drive on empty,
And weep alone.
My conscience,
Condescending,
But the life’s a drone.
Lie to me,
Don’t let me see truth!
It makes the candle burn faster!
Grind the scene,
And find the seam to break through!
We become only what we… Do!
What will we… Do?
Cuz I’m down on my knees,
And desperate to be something!
You aren’t the ones we chose-
But thank you for your try-
You’ll get it next time.
Now get out of my sight.
Cuz all we got are blistered hands,
And bruises on our pride.
Some dreams will never die,
This is the artist’s life!
Drive on empty.
Drive on empty.
Drive on empty.
Drive on empty.