Death on the festival circuit

I mewl and crow to fight my way through the snow
And scratch the surface just to find a second surface
I beg the merchants, please
Serve a purpose other than treason
There must be another reason to play these songs
Best known for being bludgeoned into something to own
The money's been bought up
And surely woman, you can feel it
And the music's all washed up
They'd rather sell it than steal it
As the festivals run dry, these whorish children can't look you in the eye
As you turn it out and turn them into something beautiful
For the party of the century is still looking for a reason to behave
The money's been bought up
And surely woman, you can feel it
And the scene, it's all washed up
They'd rather sell it than steal it
As the festivals run dry, sweet whorish children, please look them in the eye
As they turn you out and turn you into something less than beautiful again