A Social Thing

I can see the black dogs out of the corner of my eye. Every day I ask myself, is this my life? Every day I ask myself, is this my life? Is this my lie?

Windswept road - cracked faded lines. Cutting through greenery - total isolation; except for the voices
(except for the voices)…and they never stop.

The truth lies buried beneath the surface. Excavate the accidents to uncover the causes. You gotta dig to find them. You’ve got to dig to find them; your life is a tell.

Dig a big hole, gather your hopes and dreams, toss ‘em in and add some gasoline; up in flames, watch ‘em burn - I tried everything to get free.

Windswept road, cracked faded lines roll by; the pedal thrums, through dusky illumination. I’m not running away. I’m not running away. I’m running towards something.

Dig a big hole, gather your hopes and dreams, toss ‘em in and add some gasoline; up in flames, watch ‘em burn - I tried everything to get free.

Rape your eyes with the atrocity. Rip your mind with evidence of human cruelty. Here today, gone tomorrow; exhausted by pre-programmed empathy and sorrow….

The Cure, please – an antidote to this sterile condition.
The Cure, it can’t be worse than the disease...

Hope, once so valued, proved nothing more than a commodity bubble. Now we’re doubling down on mass delusion and distraction….

The Cure, please – an antidote to this sterile condition.
The Cure, it can’t be worse than the disease...

Forest for the trees; paeans to the dominant species. Forest for the trees, liturgies for you & me. Ashes are the future we’ve built; a century of Sundays wouldn’t even scratch the surface….

The Cure, please – an antidote to this sterile condition.
The Cure, it can’t be worse than the disease...

Fucking CEOs get paid big if they win or lose; it doesn’t matter but then again, neither do you. Golden parachutes and handshakes to cushion their fall; backroom boys always welcome their own. We got our own club here in the soup kitchen line.

Our religion, dead presidents in green. Loaded SUVs for the urban jungle scene. Chemical peels, beauty through poison injections, don’t forget pharmaceutical erections, Doctor Phil’s ministrations…the absurdity of ‘reality’ TV.

Multi-million dollar budgets to capture your eyes, erode your minds and lighten your wallets. Addictions to plastic and obesity. Captains of Industry - offshoring. Hedge fund managers - modern day alchemy. Politicians - in the pockets of money. An unholy gathering of narcissists, plagiarists, social climbers and media whores; all entitled bitches, and they’re getting high on you misery. It’s time to take it back, turn the tables - put them on the rack, pull the blinders from our eyes, break the shackles and take back our lives…

Trace the slide to self-serving, narcissistic needs; greedy hands will grab all that they can reach. Plead the ‘Fifth’, squeeze the fat man through the needle’s eye - don’t you know, there ain’t nothing money cannot buy. Celebrity watching, Second Lives, junk flashing, swapping wives - the opiates of choice to lull the sheep, as they all line up to get fleeced. It would seem, the American Dream is the greatest Ponzi scheme, ever seen, ever seen, ever seen…

The joke’s on us (it’s all a dirty lie).