[Intro]
[A bright three-note jingle is cut short by the same notes played on distorted guitar and pipe organ.]

[Verse 1]
When I began, the studio floor
Smelled of dust and heated cords.
Coffee burned in paper cups,
No one cared who owned the trucks.
We slept in coats beside the phone,
Called each courthouse stone by stone.
If a mayor lied at ten,
We named the lie at ten-oh-ten.

[Pre-Chorus]
Now the footage fills the frame—
Broken glass, a shouted name.
Then the producer lifts one hand:
“Hold that truth. We have a brand.”

[Chorus]
Commercial break for fascism—smile for the sale,
A flag in the corner, a boot in the mail.
Buy one more silence, get one lie free,
This message is paid for by what we won’t see.
Commercial break for fascism, bright as a mall—
Then back to the newsroom where nobody calls.

[Verse 2]
A family hides behind a door,
While smiling teeth sell kitchen floors.
A judge receives a midnight threat,
Then perfect skin removes regret.
A paper closes after dawn,
A truck ad says to carry on.
The screen returns; the smoke is gone.
The anchor says, “The claims go on.”

[Pre-Chorus]
Every jingle lands in key,
Every body leaves the screen.
Money buys the cleanest cut—
Open market, open shut.

[Chorus]
Commercial break for fascism—smile for the sale,
A flag in the corner, a boot in the mail.
Buy one more silence, get one lie free,
This message is paid for by what we won’t see.
Commercial break for fascism, bright as a mall—
Then back to the newsroom where nobody calls.

[Interlude]
[Female Ensemble]
[Wordless major-key advertising harmonies while low strings hold a single dissonant note.]

[Bridge]
My first editor used to say,
“Air belongs to those who pay—
Not with money, not with fame,
But with trust attached to name.”
He died before he had to choose
Between the public and the news.

[Break]
Fresh paint. Fast cars.
Soft beds. Gold cards.
Violence rewritten.
We return after the trial.

[Final Chorus]
Commercial break for fascism—count every sale,
Every polished slogan and sanitized tale.
Buy one more silence, get one lie free,
The bill comes due to the people we don’t see.
Commercial break for fascism, bright as a mall—
But no clean jingle can cover the fall.

[Outro]
The red lamp blinked; the ad ran long.
I heard my old chief count us on.
His voice survived beneath the din:
“Do not sell the silence in.”
