(P.Mark)
From the album Blood and Treasure

Up around New York City
Where people are too smart by half
A star can rise in the wink of an eye
But it can fall twice as fast

Feed the machine
Never mind what your mama told you about
hard work and dreams
You wanna shot at the big time?
You gotta join the team
You gotta get on board
And check your brain at the door
You gotta feed the machine

That promo man said I dig your band
And I can get you radio spins
I asked how many stations, in how many towns?
He said it depends on how much you can spend

That print lady swooned, she said I love your groove
Your eyes and your soul are so blue
But if you don’t wear the shoes
And the shirts that we choose
There ain’t a thing we can write about you

My tin-eared neighbor knocked on my door
And said my guitar playing was a crime
I asked him where does a fool
Learn to talk like he’s cool?
He said I read it in The New York Times