i swear sometimes people talk
just to hear their own voices.
they say words without intentions.
to me it's all just a buncha noise.
Well you can stand up on the stage
Like the puppet that you are.
Singing songs that other people wrote.
All the while i cut my hands
On strings i can't afford.
But i'd rather bleed for art than radio.
i swear sometimes people think
they know our burdens and our troubles.
politicians acting like
They understand the poor folk and their struggles.
Well you can stand up on the stage
Like the puppet that you are.
Singing songs that other people wrote.
All the while i cut my hands
On strings i can't afford.
But i'd rather bleed for art than radio.
I'd rather bleed for art and radio
interlude
i have been to the small towns
where dirt-roads never seem to end.
much like the cliches you sing about
time and time again.
and she is not just a "pretty little thing"
i believe that lady has a name.
and it's true one time i drove a 1993 chevrolet pick up truck
until it burst out into flames!
outro
So you can tell nashville
You can tell the world.
And you can tell the pretty country boys just what you've heard.
And you can crash my party
But you will not play my part.
You will die for radio
But i'm gonna bleed for art.
Bleed for art.