Desire in the crucible, to keep us hungry and horny, just like our domesticated animals
The appetite is insatiable, like the damage that's capable from the fiending of a cannibal
For the flesh of another human, but it's time for us to get even, reclaim a slice of heaven
For we've had enough of their theiving, whose bellies we been feeding?
The fault line is bleeding, where are you going? All that fear and loathing is self-defeating
And the years spun into nothing are coming back to haunt the empty nights of the time waster
Death is near as we search for something but keep running side to side like cross-faders
On a turntable, Technics 1200, a smorgasbord of lies that we are fed, leaving us for dead
We believe in fables, the details so sordid, leaving us empty, fucked in the head
To our techno devices we are wed, without them we can't think of anything else to do instead
Our inability to tolerate going incognito makes us kick up a fuss and fills us with dread
So we log on to Facebook, take a long hard look at all the selfies our friends be posting
Yes we are all hooked, like a meth junkie pastry cook who does a lot of crack pipe smoking
While rejecting the evil needle, there will be no injecting into his drain pipe veins
For toking can be turned into a game of who is best at making it rain inside their brain
Bunters are all going under, riddled with disease: not quite AIDS but most likely Hep C
But mainlining is all about impeccable rhyming and efficiency, one hundred percent bioavailability
If waste was the enemy, then whacking saves on the cost, nothing is lost when administered intravenously
As least the amphetamines are not going up in smoke as you toke, this digression is beyond a joke
This rhyme was meant to be political then the author turned fanatical about defending the superiority
Of one method of administering chemicals over another, a fashionable departure from techno bashing authority
Had to forego trashing technophiles in order to highlight the glass pipe's inferiority
But the point still remains at the end of the day that we are all addicted to technology
Bought and sold on the free market by computer yuppies, slaves to the lastest fads, iPads and gadgets
But aren't you glad that Google knows everything about you, the greatest view from the blade of a hatchet
Hacking into us like sandpaper cuts through rust, turning our privacy into a layer of dust
To consume the fumes coming from the server's mainframe is a must, in the techno android brain we trust
Toxic emissions metamorphasising by magic into Facebook posts about the latest highlights and news
Nuclear fission emphasising the tragic duck faces, shallow forces are plenty, there's simply no excuse
No comments:
Post a Comment