Synthesize yourself
It's the magazines the newspapers the computers no, it's the T.V. I feel like shoving food into your stomach strap you down tie you up and feed you You're wasting away to the strangeland blurryblurryblurry there's no vision for your sight a block of black chalk a wall of blue peels a white washed ceiling make it stop make it stop Because you're dying I told you to stop the bathroom is a mess again because of you I now tie your hands behind your back you will not please ask society why why are why are you why are you making why are you making them why are you making them do this? was that clear enough or are you still in love diediediediedie oh, it feels good you're in power and the rest of us well we suffer bring on the pain bring on the agony I'm not dead yet. Written January 28th, 2002 © on Jan 28 2002 12:14 PM PST 18 • 0 • 1
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"It's the magazines..."