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we were born into boredom, |
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and we'll die trying to make sense. |
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raised on Industrial evolution |
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and kept sane by medicinal defense |
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and if you know it clap your hands. |
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we try to reap fruits of our arts, |
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while owing credit to our cards. |
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we got used to stand-by-buttons |
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and chit-chat conversations. |
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our gods had over twenty channels, |
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and VCRs were our saviors. |
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we've had a few outstanding welcomes, |
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but now our welcome is outstayed. |
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and our headstones will say: |
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"for single use only" |
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talking 'bout our degeneration |
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talking 'bout our degeneration |
