Dead Kennedys

Were world industrys thoughtlords
The entertainment wing
We keep you all in line
By fixing your free will
Surround you with pop fantasies
Just slightly out of reach
To soften all the blows
Of your forced daily routine
We strip-mine your underground culture
Take the bite out and rinse it clean
Give ourselves credit for creating it
Then sell it back to you
At twice the price
Our pool of talent vampires
Has blown into your town