You were conceived on a storyboard In an uptown high-rise Where your celebrity was born From umbilical obscurity And the list keeps growing And our ears keep bleeding And the masses keep begging for more And your screams keep coming And the units keep moving And the masses keep begging for more The grins of your puppeteers are beaming Because the quotas will be made Or your time in the spotlight will fade At the hands of the same pigs that made you So speak of movements To move more units And invent brand name for your “believers” Like brands on slaves We’ll still be waiting for something stimulating Because in the end all you sold us was boredom