[Intro: Synth stabs, sharp drum machine pulse.]
Neon lights are blinding in this shallow town,
But I’m the king of rust beneath a paper crown.
Silk is overrated, keep your gold and lace,
I’d rather wear my spirit in this empty space.
[Verse 1: A “fat” funky bass, a crisp rhythm guitar scratch, and a driving beat.]
I came from dusty valleys where the wind feels real,
Where we measure heart by muscle, not the price of steel.
They tried to paint me glossy for the magazine,
To fit the shiny model of a fashion scene.
But in the dressing room, the tailor starts to sweat,
I refuse the velvet blazer that I’ll soon forget.
Take back the logo, throw the label in the fire,
My simple cotton shirt is all I will desire.
[Chorus]
I don’t like Armani, and what of that?
I prefer my old boots and a worn-out hat.
You want a plastic icon, tailored and refined,
But I’m a country comet leaving chains behind.
I don’t like Armani, it’s a gilded cage,
I’d rather sweat in denim on a shaking stage.
Keep your polished madness, keep the silver glove,
I dress in what I’m feeling - all I’m worthy of.
[Verse 2]
My producer’s pulling hair out at the morning shoot,
’Cause I refuse to wear a designer suit.
He says: “You’re on the charts, you need a high-end look!”
I tell him: “Mate, keep reading from your hollow book.”
I smell of morning hay and diesel, salt and grit,
The Prada leather jacket simply doesn’t fit.
I feel like royalty in overalls of blue,
Something that my father built, and something true.
[Chorus]
I don’t like Armani, and what of that?
I prefer my old boots and a worn-out hat.
You want a plastic icon, tailored and refined,
But I’m a country comet leaving chains behind.
I don’t like Armani, it’s a gilded cage,
I’d rather sweat in denim on a shaking stage.
Keep your polished madness, keep the silver glove,
I dress in what I’m feeling - all I’m worthy of.
[Verse 3]
The VIP is boring with its champagne taste,
Every diamond on their wrists feels like a waste.
I’m dancing with the girls who don’t know brands by heart,
That’s the honest rhythm where I make my art.
Let them mock the vintage jacket that I keep,
While they buy their fashion in a frantic sleep.
I’m the wild boy walking in a woolen sweater,
And it makes my heartbeat feel a whole lot better.
[Chorus]
I don’t like Armani, and what of that?
I prefer my old boots and a worn-out hat.
You want a plastic icon, tailored and refined,
But I’m a country comet leaving chains behind.
I don’t like Armani, it’s a gilded cage,
I’d rather sweat in denim on a shaking stage.
Keep your polished madness, keep the silver glove,
I dress in what I’m feeling - all I’m worthy of.
[Bridge/Middle 8: ad-libs.]
Oh, look at the glitter in your artificial eyes,
Behind the double-V and all the luxury lies.
But strip it all away, are you shaking in your soul?
Or is the brand the only thing that keeps you whole?
I don’t need a signature to scream my name,
I’m perfectly happy outside of your game.
So take your fashion week and lock it in a vault,
My lack of taste is clearly not my deepest fault!
[Instrumental Break: A bright, rhythmic dance synthesizer solo, a powerful dance beat.]
[Final Chorus: Full energy!!! Ad-libs from all band.]
Yeah, I don’t like Armani, and what of that?
I prefer my old boots and a worn-out hat!
You want a plastic icon, tailored and refined,
But I’m a country comet leaving chains behind!
I don’t like Armani, it’s a gilded cage,
I’d rather sweat in denim on a shaking stage!
Keep your polished madness, keep the silver glove,
I dress in what I’m feeling - all I’m worthy of!
Not my fault, but I don’t like it!
No labels on my heart tonight!
Keep the glitz, I’ll keep the pride!
I’m dancing in the dirt of the neon light!
Yeah, keep your trend, it’s just a ghost in the machine,
I’m the wildest memory that you’ve ever seen!
I don’t need the tag, I don’t need the fee,
I’m finally simple, I’m finally… ME!!!
[Outro: Bright synth solo, funky bassline fading out. Ad-libs.]
Not my fault... (I don’t like it!)
No labels... (On my heart tonight!)
Keep the glitz... (I’ll keep the pride!)
I’m just dancing in the dirt of the neon light!..
[The final powerful synthesizer chord.]
