Cursive - Content Conman

When books were written to move us, not units
When films were more than just reboots for tickets
Commerce has turned a corner,
Artistry’s crammed in the backseat

One is content and one’s commercial, I suppose
Which is content and which is commercial? I don’t know
Throwing a guilty party, eating crow out on the balcony
Crying, “listen to me!”

They killed the radio station long ago
They’re killing the brick and mortar nice and slow
We’re slumming in an art form
Based on the three minute earworm

One is content and one’s commercial, I suppose
Which is content and which is commercial? I don’t know
Stuck at this guilty party, struck by a plaque in the bathroom
It quipped, “Art is Pure Shit”

Oh god, to write with no audience in mind
Oh god, to write just because you have to write
It’s a fool’s errand at best
Lest you commit to your base self — art is pure shit

Content conman