Content Nausea

( - ) x4 Content nausea, World War Four, seems like it all came too soon Another carnage apparatus, such a disappointing doom I've used money, I've used drugs, Abuse body, abuse mind People use such strange excuses, always have done, no clue why Most folks think and some folks know, life's lived least when you don't let go Of a memory, of a dream, like an hometown better seen On a screen or at a distance, life lived best without resistance People clicked and people read, 'Modern Life' is what it said Pretty pictures, pretty lives, I peered into once or twice I'll go back but not today, it's nice to visit but it's hard to stay In the grips of bad dimension, too much data, too much tension Too much plastic, too much glass, life lived least when when fears are passed My friend he won't leave his home, says "I am a bonfire of human bones." I am a bonfire of human bones, I am a bonfire of human bones ~ ~ (repeat - E -) ~ ~ And am I under some spell? And do my thoughts belong to me? Or just some slogan I ingested to save time? This night is missing people The sea, it had no-one Hardly no-one, it had shapes, it had light Some were flashing, most moved Me, I couldn't look away But still no-one came or left they just stayed But they weren't there in the first place Overpopulated by nothing, crowded by a sparseness Guided by darkness, too much, not enough Content, that's what you'd call it An infant screaming in every room in your gut Bets strum on an intention but best left unattended How gathered the pixels in the dust of the digital age to our being With what do I wash? Put on some music My friend walks the same path every day Steep the stairwell, cognizance to coma Ignoring best he can An inconvenient reality The consequential chore that unfolds in the naked sprint from screen to screen Scrolling binary ghettos for escape for reminders And this would be a good idea to free poets From the back padding dungeons of content and comments To free artists from empty and vulgar broadcasting ritual For this year it became harder to be tender Harder and harder to remember Meeting a friend, writing a letter Being lost, antique ritual All lost to the ceremony of progress Like the sensual organs removed They're only weighing you down, you didn't need them Ignore this part, it's an advertisement These people are famous, I'd trust them Protesters stayed home this time around Some enlisted, some never heard the first shots ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Well I've been north and I've been south, I've been west and I've been east Been around long enough to know, life's lived best when scrolling least Just a broken piece of plastic, just another new device Just another nervous habit, one more thing you have to buy Just one more thing to replace, one more way to block your face Too much data, too much tension, life's lived least when less is mentioned Wasting dollars, wasting hours, wasting talent with wasted power No one says it but it's known, the more connected, the more alone My friend stays at the home in the dark, never walks up to the park Always nauseous, always tired, I am a landmine, wrong supplier I am a landmine