Trend Killer Letra

I'd had A House full of Money and A Mouth full of Gold.
Who's his Face and what you that Band?
Every fucking Day I try to understand.
I can't be bothered with your Piece-of-Shit-Band.
With your Piece-of-Shit-Music and your Piece-of-Shit-Fans.

Get this:
your Licks and Riffs are all laced with Shit.
But Songs full of nothing are just making me sick.
Think you're made 'cause your Mugs are the Cover.
But come next Month, they'll be covering someone other.
What's that Bro, can't find A Style of your own?
You got the Wagon to the left and to the right are the Clones.
Don't slap my Back, quoting me as the Man.
I want nothing to do with your fucking Band.

Trend Killer.

Yeah, here comes Johnny smoking three Packs A Day.
He thinks he's the Shit with his Band and his Babe.
He spent his advance on getting full sleeve Tattoos.
Now the Band and Babe split and left with Holes in his Sheos.

You burned your Bridges when becoming A Star.
But the Cameras stopped flashing at your entourage.
You played the Guitar, had it strapped to your Chin.
Got A Adam's Apple cut-out and A Hairdo to win.
But Times caught up and now your Fame has died.
You find yourself alone with No one by your Side.
Now, whine, whine, whine is all I hear from your Face.
As the "Band of the Week" steps up to take your Place.

Trend Killer.

So here I sit puffin on my Cigar.
Chauffeur driving me around in one of my Cars.
Management calls but I hang up the Phone.
I'm busy doing nothing, so just leave me alone.
Life is hard at the Top of the Heap.
Got A Million Dollar Habit and my Ends to meet.
Dude, I'm sorry to I can't be seen with your Band.
Got whatever to do, I'm sure you understand.

Trend Killer.
Trend Killer.

Is it me, me, me or is it you, you, you?
Trend Killer.
What goes up, up, up must come down, down, down
Trend Killer.
Is it me, me, me or is it you, you, you?
Trend Killer.
What goes up, up, up must come down, down, down
Trend Killer.