"Market"

I open my mouth --
all this shit slips out.
I can't spit fast enough to get the taste out.
I drop my line in your ear
to snag your attention and reel you in
until you're paying me for the hook in your lip.
I open my mouth --
do I have your attention?
Can I sell you a vacuum?
You'd look great in that blouse.
Do you own a house?
I can sell you one of those, too.
I open my mouth --
I own you.

This is the part of the pitch where I switch gears
and quick as a whip zip through puffed-up statistics
and demographics and names you don't know
and numbers you can't see cuz I won't show
and promises that aren't lies because they could come true
if I could only get a credit card number from you today
no, no tomorrow, no, today, don't you worry
about price it's okay shut your mouth I'm not through.

Not sure what I'm selling?
I feed off receptivity.
It's okay; I'll do the thinking for you.
I'll tell you what you need
then sell you that very thing.
I open my mouth --
what clever timing!

Because nobody knows what they want 'till they're told
and the older you get the more junk you collect go ahead,
inspect your pile.
My logo face smiles up at you from every brittle plastic tool
and tin-thin computer chip and day-old magazine
and already outdated compilation CD.
I extend my hand --
I know you, you're my fool --
you're my friend.

I open my mouth
and my words dance out
like honey bees on flowers
the hours pass like seconds
and every phrase I use is precious
and you just eat me you just eat me
you just eat me up,
then thank me,
my cup overflowing.

I open -- not even open, part --
my mouth and sell you
a name, a brand, status, a soul,
with a smirk. You'll do what you're told.
You'll eat what you're told.
You'll drink what you're told.
You'll wear what you're told
You'll live as you're told.
I have; your turn.

I open my mouth --
even speech has a price tag.
Everything in life has a price tag,
unless you're a solipsist
and exist completely within yourself.
Everything costs something.
Material things cost you wealth.
Vices cost your health.
A job costs you time.
And love?
Well, love can take your very life.

I open my mouth and show you where to sign,
collect your check and b-line
out of this mess.
What you don't realize
is that your day-to-day wake shave shit shower drive
work eat work some more drive eat
suckle at the TV sleep
this routine was all carefully designed
by me.
And in the morning,
when you're in the red
and you roll out of bed afraid
of what the day may have in store,
afraid that your friends may know
that this is the end,
that you can't go on with them anymore
to shopping malls and catalogues
for coffee and drinks
no more suits, no more handbags
no more movies, no more gab rags,
when you wake up sucked dry, afraid
that you can't buy what the day may bring,
I'll be there
pushing your doorbell.

Ring-ring.

Ring-ring.