The subject is torn A consciousness awaits if left unchecked Speak to him, pull the reigns We must intercede We must intercept this looming threat Rest yourself oh anxious mind Devolve not in to such convolution Just pick yourself up and dust yourself off There's much to be done And the grind, it waits for none But something here's not right This digital landscape reeks of collapse Even our fantasies are overcome with dystopian dreams "You are hailed as king, you could live forever" Just think of what it would be like To leave this waste of existence Feel the cords in the back of your head Grab ahold, disconnect And see the world for the stage that it is Full of languid dancers approaching their abyss With their tattered hearts all worn and thin Giving rise to a great dominion And there we were all tethered The slightest tug prompting all endeavors This is an orchestration We are ambient noise and calculation