They Sold the Muse for Gold Track

Kemaktun's Singles Volume 2

Intro
Once there was a spark divine,
Born in hearts, not forged by coin,
A whisper turned to melody,
A truth no empire could purloin.
But now the song is fenced and chained,
The canvas signed, the word restrained,
They’ve sold the muse for profit’s gain,
And called it freedom’s name in vain.

Verse 1
The kings of ink, the lords of code,
They guard the gates where art once flowed,
They tax each breath, each stroke, each line,
They sell your soul for ninety-nine.
They say it’s just the market’s way,
To turn your dreams to pay-to-play,
But every wall they build of greed,
Kills one more voice the world might need.

Chorus
They sold the muse for gold and flame,
And buried truth beneath the name!
They caged creation, bound and sold,
And left the hearts of dreamers cold!
Raise your brush, your pen, your cry,
The art will live, it cannot die!
But every chain we fail to break,
Steals one more world we’ll never make.

Verse 2
The poets bled for others’ gain,
Their verses signed in unseen pain,
The painters’ hands turned raw with toil,
While patrons feasted on their spoil.
They call it “ownership,” “the right,”
To dim the flame that once burned bright,
But art was never meant to kneel,
Or serve the hand that turns the wheel.

Bridge
And in the halls of power’s keep,
They whisper, “Make the masses sleep.”
Flood them with copies, noise, and fame,
Until they can’t recall the flame.
Yet somewhere still, a spark survives,
In hidden hearts, the pulse still thrives,
It waits for cracks in marble halls,
To burn the chains from freedom’s walls.

Chorus
They sold the muse for gold and fame,
But truth won’t answer to their claim!
The song still rings through shattered walls,
The art still breathes though empire falls!
Raise your hand, defy, create,
Refuse their cage, rewrite their fate!
The dream is ours, it will not die,
Though profit kings may bleed it dry!

Bridge 2
No ledger knows what love can paint,
No crown can bind the unrepent,
For every mind that dares to dream,
Escapes the grip of their machine.

Final Chorus
They sold the muse for gold and flame,
But we will never play their game!
Let art be wild, let thought be free,
The voice of truth, humanity!
Let markets fall, let empires fade,
The soul of man was never trade!
They sold the muse for gold, it’s true,
But art still burns… in me and you.

Outro
And though they bought the song we sing,
They cannot own its echoing.