I had a dream last night, a king gave you his throne.
He dressed you up in pretty robes and precious stones.
He rolled you cigarettes in hundred dollar bills.
You let your guard down and he moved in for the k**.
Have you forgotten where you started long ago,
Before obsession with the spotlight took control?
You spoke encouragement and told me, "stay true."
Looks like that principle did not pertain to you.
You're not ever convincing me to drink your poison.
I'm not your target audience.
I won't mortgage my heart for something temporary.
I can't be bought, cause I'm not selling.
Pa**ion and faith for fashion and fame; oh what a tragic trade!
Come on now, stoke the crowd, the tired trap for mindless youth.
(Sing out!) your trashy plastic poetry.
Come on you tidal wave, put your brother in the grave.
Smile as he suffocates,
And push him out of the window five floors high.
You're not ever convincing me to drink your poison.
I'm not your target audience.
I won't mortgage my heart for something temporary.
I can't be bought, cause I'm not selling, no.