The Copywriter's Song

It could be a rap, I suppose. Feel free. As for now, it's just words. Posted this before, so if you've seen it, please be patient and allow the new kids time to catch up.

Sell to win – there is no sin
Grab ‘em by the heart – that’s the start
Grab ‘em by the ears - prey on their fears
Get into their soul - get a hold

You’re fat, you’re ugly, you’re nowhere near sexy
You’re old, you’re dying, you’re sick inside
You’re a loser, you’re bald, you’re lacking something real
and you’re just plain stupid if you turn down this deal

Hear that cha-ching? – the register rings
Quota was made – we play in the shade
Palms are greased – space is leased
The clients sing – sales is the thing

You’re dumb, you’re lacking, your husband doesn’t love you
You’re slow, you’re dated, you’re a sad excuse
You’re worthless, uncool, can’t you recognize what’s real?
We thought you were smarter when we offered this deal

Fine print is small – don’t read it all
It says what it must – as if you can’t trust
Would I lie to you? Would I tell you untrue?
If I can get in – give it just the right spin
I sell apples to Eve – and make her believe

that she’s a failure, a victim, she needs her eyes opened
Her man’s a pansy, substandard, and lacking in size
She’s wrinkled, small-breasted, bad lover, mother, wife
until she buys this thing to revolutionize her life

You’re a mark, a pigeon, a sucker, easy target
You’re insecure, unsure and afraid of the truth
You’re a dummy, firm believer, an always-open wallet
You’d sell your body, your soul, or whatever you call it