I'm coughing up your trash, all disinformative filth you force-feed to the masses you pathetic little s**t I am sick for I don't understand the beauty of standing in line, gazed at what you sell, time after time and after time and after time nothing satisfies yes, you are breathing, but are you really alive? The last trace of individuality lays buried in this pulp that you so deeply adore
I'm a nobody, I'm just another face nobody, I'm just another face You're a nobody, you're just another face nobody, you're just another copy of a copy of a copy of a copy of a same-old, same-old, same-old, same-old...
Are you not entertained?
We are overrun by an audio-visual locust swarm. Ready-made images take away the will and motivation to accomplish anything in life. We receive gratification for stagnation, retaining the seated position against all humanly instincts of curiosity. As it pushes them aside, the information stampede chokes the last breaths of what made us beautiful individuals in the first place.
Substitute love with lust Substitute God with ego
Blended onto one mass, indifferent on principle to any principles, we form the perfect particles of social clay - colourless, undemanding and easily-formable – to serve the only true cause. The one you were told to serve, that is.
Substitute love with lust Substitute God with ego Substitute hope with fear Substitute love with f**king
Are you not entertained?
A 3-star gourmet dish served but tasteless it collapses as you puncture through the structure outside it will stuff you, it will bloat you, clot you up and leave you sterile yet empty inside The walls are closing in, your skin stretches, any minute now you feel that it is going to break The picture is degrading and it's clear that the colorful ink was always fakeTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
