Sometimes it's easy to ignore, if it's forgettable
Sometimes it's magic to the soul, claims you for its own
But every now and then I hear a sound that breaks the spell
Whoever puts that garbage on the air must love the smell

I can't do this
People call it music
But I'm not sure
And there's a difference between a set of blueprints for radio
And just plain noise

I turn my television on to pass me through the night
I'm watching fools try to sing an awful song that didn't even rhyme
I know some tool's just sitting at a desk pulling the strings
They shove their garbage
Axed out every ? the towers reach

I hate music
If that's what you call music
But I don't know
Who approves the shit they pass for music on the shows
There's no difference between the set of blueprints for radio
And failure

There was a time you couldn't fake your game
Turn the red light on and you delivered the goods
Or you were chased off stage by someone else who could
You were making magic or you couldn't make nothin' at all
Nothin' at all

Well I hate music
If that's what you call music
That's for sure
If you're amused by the polysonic zoo, well
It's all yours
Every day there's a new song being played that sounds like hell
Whoever puts that garbage on the air must love the smell

You can listen to whatever you like
I try and keep it bottled up inside
But don't pretend it's not polluting the world
As it plays on and on and on and on
Somewhere they must have lost their way
Threw their souls out for attention and fame
Their taste is bad, their opinions are wrong
They make awful shit, but the radio keeps bangin' their songs