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Television; all hail grand pixelated god of fantasy, murder-scape, and bent perspective. |
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**** a sore channel changed digit, |
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I sit with a nasty network intravenous plan, with a stable diet of my cable pirate. |
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Yo, the doctor is in, the doctor is on, born the bastard son of static radiance cloned to welcome in every home. |
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Let a blue screen, bruised dream canopy victim of the cursed nursed |
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Technicolor drunk support team. |
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Ooh, I love all advertisements though accused by robot news casters who capture and pollute spoon-fed hazardous fog to joy luck catholic squad. |
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Please take me, please calm me, please make me a zombie please |
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I want to donate my brain to the monstrous |
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Panasonic prophet |
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Now, twenty-first century plagued dispersed to wide-eyed glamour addict patients telecast patrons |
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Blue be the propaganda banners, well, sure |
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I'll be a |
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Marine with a clean sword and blue uniform, it only takes a dollar and a dream. |
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And I abide, great idiot box power-supply, fuzz vapor, blackout of |
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New York. |
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Hey honey, get the generator, |
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I'm in a doom, doom generation, pacin', ancient electric secret never sleepin' to miss the |
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AM oasis my name is a wired heart, sloppy obligation turn my stilt into my guilt and have a chatter-box blame-frame adjacent station |
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Make reality scrambled and suck the life out of a hidden vandal and loving every minute of the gimmick, change the channel. |
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Plug it in, turn it on, prop me up against the couch lights out, |
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I ain't ever gonna have to leave my house satellite dish, get up on my wish list, turn me to a tyrant let my clean spirit dissolve through the appliance. |
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Plug it in, turn it on, be my mother when she's gone. |
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Great, wipe the spittle off my chinny-chin during the breaks. |
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If I gotta go blind |
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I'mma do it for the love of all television kind and that's fine, and that's fine... |
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Make me a star, |
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I wanna touch gold, hold me suspended in a dream, meerly inches from the screen |
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Deleted passions sacrificed to one electron monster |
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Crucify my little future to the monitor. |
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Damn it feels good: turn on, tune in zoom in to hug the bug up in your family function. "But the children seem to love it.." |
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Yeah, smother me in wild discovery and herd the static flock to where |
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I sleep by the glow of that magic box. |
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Big speaker, stereo mastered, often kill the freak-seekers, eyes spiraling, tangled in the star-spangled wiring. |
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I can turn from toxicated visuals and all the kings horses abort the loyalty to royalty, **** the fortress. |
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Riddle me with glee, hoist the end-all telepromt above my sleeping head |
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I'll be dead by morning anyway. |
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Color my values with mundane humor in thirty minute tickets to feel the magnetic seal. |
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Picket censorship, |
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I want commercials twenty four-seven, |
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I wanna shop from my bed and set an example for all my overworked, underpaid brethren. |
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I bond with a sick string of correspondent and lurking circuitry circus with allegiance pledged beyond the glass surface. |
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Adamant students within the fine school of possessed graduate catalysts, channel zero addicts, immaculate. |
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It goes: big screen, little screen, any screen'll do just let me hold the controller and |
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I won't have to murder you. |
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Plug it in, turn it on, let my little eyes glaze, twenty screens lined up along the borders of the maze. |
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I wanna see the five-day forecast fourteen days in advance so |
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I can get my two weeks notice every time the sun dance. |
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Plug it in, turn it on, silent fix better than nothing, let a once divine soul feel the functions of the hypnotist, the viciousness, ridiculous, piquing a dummy's interest. |
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Touch the power button meet your maker, ain't that something? |
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Plug it in, turn it on, say goodbye to |
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Sunday afternoon, fix the antenna, sit back and let disaster bloom |
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It's a beautiful sight, with a most ugly intention but |
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I taste it everyday and bathe inside the consequences. |
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Plug it in, turn it on, never once have you talked back to me your majesty, |
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I love you, |
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I despise you. |
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My everyday is sitcom, soaps, news, bad dramatization come along with me, my friend for the most glorious sensation.. |
