IRC-Galleria

Marty, Marty listen to me. Bring me something the kids will cry for.
Get out there, and get us stoked!"

Meet Marty, major label A&R scout, forty years old, gut hanging out.
Red Ferrari, Marty living in L.A. bumps another line to get through the day.
Dumped by his girl, he paid for her liposuction,
His friends call him "Money", in his introduction.
And Marty knows nothing but claims to know it all,
Lose the flat screen TV if he drops the ball.
You're as good as your last hit, find the next big thing.
If he doesn't bring the bling, his cell phone won't ring.
What's the trend, what's new? What's a label scout to do? Office life, Marty 11:32.
The label pres. calls and yells, "Sign more emo!"
How about screamo? "If it sells, sign Nemo,"
"We're down 2%, and BMG knows,
My Daughter likes Dashboard, so get me one of those!"
He checks AP.net, the Scout and more,
yelling band names to his assistant through the door.
The kids will like this, who cares if it's great?
So he signs a band called Hearts that Hate.

"Marty... we've got a hit."

Cry tonight. My hands around your hands.
I won't let you,
Die tonight.
My heart's in your hands.
I won't let you...

Hearts that Hate, Marty goes to their show, up in the club and here we go.
Marty sees a girl in a Simple Plan shirt with a Senses Fail boy, ha that'll never work.
He finds his label friends in the corner they huddle,
An emo cattle auction, they penetrate the bubble.
They talk about Victory and signing TBS,
Dissing the same bands they just tried to impress.
So the lights go down, the crowd starts to scream,
Hearts that Hate have hit the scene.
Blake on vocals, and lead guitar,
He does a backflip, "Look how different we are!"
They show up at the studio to record it,
A TRL Billboard Modern Rock hit.
They auto-tune Blake, but he can't tell.
He says, "I've got perfect pitch, damn I sing well."
ProTools, Logic, cut, copy, paste, quantized solos and quantized bass.
Signed, sealed, delivered and sent, across the U.S. and the single went...

Cry tonight. My hands around your hands.
I won't let you,
Die tonight.
My heart's in your hands.
I won't let you DIE


Momentum builds, but it all caves in.
Industrial comes back, the pres needs a NIN.
Marty finds a band called "Fetal Coil"
And Hearts that Hate try to keep their fans loyal.
They re-work their sound for album number two,
As "Machines of Hate," but their career is through.
They break up and work pushing mops and brooms,
Blake gives guitar lessons in his living room.
Blake gives guitar lessons in his living room,
Blake gives guitar lessons in his living room.

"Can you teach me track five Mr. Blake?"
"Hey, I wrote that song and it goes like this!"

Cry tonight. My hands around your hands.
I won't let you,
Die tonight.
My Hearts In Your Hands.
I won't Let you DIE
Cry Tonight (Die)
My Hands Around Your Hands.
I Won't Let You
Die Tonight. (Die)
My Hearts In Your Hands.
I won't let you... DIE