There are malls of boys pressed to dance on floors made of glass.
There are molds of girls pressed to catch the eyes of boys who look for that.
There are songs with tempos a tad too fast,
And drums that pound for guitars to thrash.
Our boys have ears made for that,
Our boys have ears made for that.

When they want the package not the product,
Oh they hate their headaches but love the drama.

Where has the soul in our music gone?
Where has the soul in our music gone?
Is it in the kids with their red flags up?
Where has the soul in our music gone?
Where has the soul in our music gone?
Is it in the hearts hung low?
Or have we finally lost it all?

You gotta get it up to get it back,
You gotta get it up to get it back,
If you dont know how,
Try looking to your past.

If the face is beautiful the voice will be too, right?
How else does a product move?
If the package is pretty oh the songs will be too, right?
How else does our music move?

Does this move?

Lift your head up. Lift your head up.

When they want the package not the product,
Oh they hate their headaches but they love the drama.

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