pessimistic and love starved sons of business
new years babies all born with the bends
they mind-fuck on the first date
and get the praise that they pay for
walk with the priests and the primates
and praise the one that gets paid more
we've borrowed time, feeling content waiting in line
scared or self-aware?
we worked hard for fake tits
false comfort and ego enhancements
the truth is your blind to the beauty inside and your vanity will haunt you regardless
are you scared or self-aware?
wish I could say I wasn't losing sleep but lately I've lost a lot
to the man with the rent-a-cop complex
the buyer of binary thought
when it gets worse (and it always gets worse) I'll think of you
and the monsters that force-fed you too
all discourse is for sale
we see ourselves with hot knives in paradise
are you scared or self-aware?
there's nothing here for me, just glass walls and ceilings
you will be missed
raise your glass to those who have passed and those who have yet to
if we never meet again, my friend, I'm not indifferent
we're sedated right 'til the end
thank god for western medicine
just bury my burdens with me, without a dollar to my name
i wish i had the chance to say sorry, the chance to say anything at all
i'll sleep with one hand to the heavens and one hand to the sea
so call it pathetic, your bad money pays for good genetics
it's just a sign of the times
this repetition is haunting, mistake convenience for love
some wake up worse in the morning
auction off the remnants of the debris and ship the rest overseas
we fall into grey, the only shade things are made of these days
wasted and weak at the knees
take me to the moment where the chorus was
just a distant murmur
wasted and weak at the knees on clever marketing schemes
so pay off the system and weaken all the walls
nothing can harm the city
just stay asleep at home
emaciated and cold
we’re born elated and grow old
you’ve finally made it
true irony never sleeps
it leaves blank cheques in the basement in old linen sheets
i’ll crawl the 16 blocks back to Holland Park where I’ll wake up repurposed
pay homage to cokeheads
child star's car crashed right where the road ends
there's something cliche about how it happens again and again
rethink your image and renew your contract
recycled and bought back
your culture-bound syndromes
plastic afflictions
gave ourselves away to the temporary and the mundane
fostered delusion
some that i've met are not lonely
make friends with cigarettes and a hundred cans of lucky
the nazis in this city have always been generous with their ketamine
she smiled and slowly scribbled her name
on a back of a pack of kutcorners that i left out in the rain
all these prairie-raised girls all seem to act the same
and all your days end badly
and all your days end badly
hard to say but sadly searching for something more
he's the closest kin to the barstool where he's always been
dissolved in import specials and back bar gin
non-prophets with stretch marks
inheritance kids born in dive bars
products of human kind and treat yourself like gods
we are the lonely ones
fast asleep next to loaded guns
failures just a figment of your fragile mind
just a matter of adjusting your paradigm
you're in control of the hell that you live inside
don't spend your life collecting what you'll leave behind
social puppets and patriot actors
shake hands and network
we all bought into some sex appeal
subconsciously and slow
we all chase a high we’ll never feel
the memory just ebbs and flows
raised by wolves in an opium den
can you tell that they are hungry for all the power that you promised them?
raise your false-flags at half-mast and pray theres more stories left to spin
post another status; you’ve done your fucking part
raised by wolves in an opium den
stay far beneath the surface amidst the gimmicks and the trends
are you looking for a life less life-less or looking for a life-less life?
you have witnessed the death of true solitude
there is more to life than what we strive for
thrive off flattery and every product that defines you
revolutions reduced to hashtags
and I’ve had enough
so it goes, she’d always leave you for a billionaire
he says i don’t give my my my love away
he’ll die as broke as me
yeah we all die broke and alone eventually
your system is fucking rigged
but in the end, so is everything
god has a great sense of humor and calls himself entropy
we built the sons of success
and they will drown in their pools of excess
he must have been a go getter
he must have been a go getter, in his day
dead men made into dead letters
they’ve paid off the man in the front row to say
halleluja, i’m saved
can’t look you in your fucking face
we’re all liars these days
so kneel to your master
so kneel to your fucking master
fear the hand that you’re feeding from
love or lack of love
someday we decide which one we’re more proud of
jot a eulogy down on your fat fucking paystub
oh that’s classic
we’re all wearing a mask,oh fan-fucking-tastic
the birth of ghost-written hardcore? thats classic
you marry the man you don’t marry the magic
you don’t marry the magic
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