[Cold Open] Don’t sell me the sun. I already paid for the window. [Groove Enters] [Verse 1] They put the sky behind a password, put the river in a can. Put a number on the heartbeat, put a barcode on the hand. They sold silence by the minute, sold attention by the pound. Built a tower out of hunger, then charged admission to the ground. A man came through my television, smiling clean and talking slow. He said: “We own tomorrow.” I said: “Then tell me where today can go.” [Chorus] Don’t sell me the sun. Don’t rent me the rain. Don’t call it freedom when you profit from the chain. Don’t sell me the sun. I know what light can do. You didn’t make the morning. It doesn’t belong to you. [Verse 2] They priced the air above the city, priced the shade beneath the tree. Sold a cure for every sickness that was caused by the fee. They put a camera in the doorway, put a witness in the phone. Now everybody’s being watched and everybody feels alone. The banker bought a conscience. The preacher bought a brand. The poor man bought a lottery ticket with the future in his hand. [Chorus] Don’t sell me the sun. Don’t rent me the rain. Don’t call it progress when the poor absorb the pain. Don’t sell me the sun. I know what light can prove. You can own the tallest building. You cannot own the view. [Breakdown – Bass and Drums] Who owns the water? Not you. Who owns the morning? Not you. Who owns the body? Not you. Who sold the answer? You do. Who bought the silence? We did. Who breaks the contract? We will. [Short Guitar Burst] [Final Chorus] Don’t sell me the sun. Don’t dress up the chain. Don’t call it order when obedience is pain. Don’t sell me the sun. [Stop] Open the window.
