Billy Banker, he’s a wanker
And a young blood, yet he’s given a key
Makes them money, but it’s funny
Because before this he sold those ads on TV
The greatest records will never get heard;
Lost on shelves in a mothers basement somewhere
Thanks to Billy there’s still plenty
Of shelves and basements, for generations to share
It’s not about the swing and cut of your jib
It’s all about what they can sell to the kids!
You can fake it, til' you make it they’ll say
Who’s to know, who’s to know, who’s to know?
There’s of a heap of, eager blue bloods
Primed and ready, to sell their honor away
Nothing new there, but the catch is
It’s been packaged, in an indie rock frame
Here’s the problem, did he rob them?
A&R men, they wanna' go for the win;
«What's the point in, losing funding
On a great band, if they can’t sell a thing?»
It’s not about the swing and cut of your jib
It’s all about what they can sell to the kids!
You can fake it, til' you make it they’ll say
Who’s to know, who’s to know, who’s to know?