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Sometimes it’s easy to ignoreIf it’s forgettableSometimes it’s magic to the soulAnd claims you for its ownBut every now and then I hear a sound that breaks the spellWhoever puts that garbage on the air must love the smellI can’t do thisPeople call it music but I’m not sureIf there’s a difference between the set of blueprints for radio and just plain noiseI turn my television on to pass me through the nightI’m watching fools try to sing an awful song they didn’t even writeI know some tool’s just sitting at a desk pulling the stringsThey shove their garbage acts down every dial the towers reachI hate music if that’s what you call music, but I don’t knowWho approves the shit they pass for music on these shows?There’s no difference between the set of blueprints for radio and failureThere was a time you couldn’t fake your gameThey turned the red light on and you delivered the goodsOr you were chased off stage by someone else who couldYou were making magic or you couldn’t make (nothing) at allI hate musicLetras de cancionesIf that’s what you call music, that’s for sure.If you’re amused by the poly-sonic zoo, well, it’s all yoursEvery day there’s a new song being played that sounds like hellWhoever puts that garbage on the air must love the smellYou can listen to whatever you likeI’ll try and keep it bottled up insideBut don’t pretend it’s not polluting the world as it plays on and on and on and onSomewhere they must have lost their wayAnd threw their souls out for attention and fameTheir taste is bad, their opinions are wrong,They make awful shit but the radio keeps playing their songs From Letras Mania