Heros

[Verse 1]
Marketing is a religious ceremony.
Adoration dictating what's salutary.
Some ingratitude towards what's beloved dearly.
Needs are limited to benefit luxury.
By consent, dollars are made into deities,
subordinating folks own's value callously.
All that one really has is an identity...

[Pre-Chorus]
Subpar tribe…

[Chorus]
my noble mentor,
my altruistic soul,
my jovial tempo,
my velvety thoughts.

[Verse 2]
Each person is suffering limits to one's wants.
What's running smoothly gets shunned by these annoyances.
Confused, simple desires are becoming demands.
But as we grow, so do we correct our preferences.
Unconsciously suppressed and drawn down are intents.
The frustrated plugging saturates all their senses,
Their most flouted fantasies hold their vigilance.

[Pre-Chorus]
So futile…

[Chorus]
My noble mentor,
my altruistic soul,
my jovial tempo,
my velvety thoughts.

[Verse 2]
Everyone may frown in self-love remedially:
grace for oneself remains a possibility.
Public worship conceives of these things reversely.
Towards favourites is diverted comradery.
It chops each molecule of conviviality.
Altruism is consecrated to effigies,
whose admirers are set down in indecency.

[Pre-Chorus]
Ode to you!

[Chorus]
My noble mentor,
my altruistic soul,
my jovial tempo,
my velvety thoughts.