You came home kind of late the other night

With the seed of the song in your head

You sweated and you toiled to get it right

Shape the words to the tune you had made

And you'll maybe reach a hundred and with luck a little more

Maybe hear the voices sing along

If they don't hear you on the radio they'll soon forget the tune

Cause they listen to the seller not the song

But you prepare your offering anyhow

And you try to be true to the tale

And you go and sing your heart out to the crowd

Take a chance you may succeed you may fail

Well they'll judge you on your attitude they'll judge you on your face

And they'll say the name you called yourself's all wrong

And they'll question your commitment and they'll criticise your style

But they'll never really listen to the song

They said, we are the guardians of the game

And our word says you live or you die

And though we like your music just the same

We must sell what we think they should buy

We'll promote you for a gimmick we'll promote you for the gain

Even if your style of music is long gone

We can sell you for the pleasure we can sell you for the pain

But we'll never be the seller of your song

So it never found its immortality

This song that you wrote from the heart

Buried in a backroom by the sea

It was a fate you should have seen from the start

Still you listen to the radio sometimes you sing along

Imagine all the songs they never play

Tell me could we say it better or would we sound the same

If we didn't listen to the seller not the song

We listen to the seller not the song

Yeah we listen to the seller not the song