I saw my friends left brutalized
In the vapid machineries of tweaked-out nights
Possessing the senses of caged animals in their search for fulfillment.
Shallowness--this mediocre generation of absent dreamers lacking the epiphany of
Self-preservation--engulfed in the sordid grasps of
Meager dollars, where thoughts are worth half a penny.
This society is crumblin' to the tides of
Black oil and blacker blood,
So let's watch the young'ins wash their faces
Using bile from the well of
Screamin' Arabs as they
Rinse and Repeat.
Zombies stumble down the dingy highways of our lands
Dressed in the finest tuxedos with gaudy ornaments
Chained around their necks like an accidentally shot albatross.
Clawing voraciously at the blowin' winds
That smelled so strongly of dusty books and unused bed sheets;
Echoing, decaying--their dreams are swept away,
Inside of the blowin' winds, never to be touched and felt
Again.
The machine whirring and clicking in rhythmic movements
Settles coldly throughout the landscape.
It was infinite and we embraced it.
We become the machine.
