And that's how i feel about todays music... And culture.... Konichiwa bitches!
Slacked green backed passer bys in greased up skin tight bleached cotton mesh wildly masturbating within their anything but music television, over saturated, and mutilated psyches. Feeding off glucose rainbows, and Taurus nut shot, electric jolts that leaves one with crooked, sugar glazed over, corporate synthesized, hungover canary wings. Sing me a song little bird...no, less screaming.... no, it too catchy. Simply cliche.
Facetious words come to empty minds in an array of different shades of gray and cream off white. Thoughts moves in full conformity, with the fury of a zephyr passing through an over exaggerated opening, the space between ears. Calm, nonthreatening, no emotions but the wrong ones. Believe in this. Boring! So this is what we are staring down with doe eyes lit by florescent headlights, this mundane, oversimplified, slightly retarded barrel, of a twelve shot spread, full intellectual collapse, Jinga! This is the present future, our contribution, instead of blood and sweat, we shed tears for strangers, living vicariously through electromagnetic waves? Someone kill the babysitter!
Where are my starry eyed visionaries with instruments in hand and soul in heart washing away this plague of commerce induced, slapstick jingles. Where are the prodigal leaders with golden tongues and a rational vendetta to rid us of these fowl broods who have the unnerving audacity, the unmitigated gall to tell us what we need and what we like based on pie charts that remove all remaining individuality? Where is our promised change? The one that resembles more and more like a faint whisper of a infallible law that has long since been lost in between the translations and the alpha male need to conquer, to control. I feel cheated! How do you feel?
Slacked green backed passer bys in greased up skin tight bleached cotton mesh wildly masturbating within their anything but music television, over saturated, and mutilated psyches. Feeding off glucose rainbows, and Taurus nut shot, electric jolts that leaves one with crooked, sugar glazed over, corporate synthesized, hungover canary wings. Sing me a song little bird...no, less screaming.... no, it too catchy. Simply cliche.
Facetious words come to empty minds in an array of different shades of gray and cream off white. Thoughts moves in full conformity, with the fury of a zephyr passing through an over exaggerated opening, the space between ears. Calm, nonthreatening, no emotions but the wrong ones. Believe in this. Boring! So this is what we are staring down with doe eyes lit by florescent headlights, this mundane, oversimplified, slightly retarded barrel, of a twelve shot spread, full intellectual collapse, Jinga! This is the present future, our contribution, instead of blood and sweat, we shed tears for strangers, living vicariously through electromagnetic waves? Someone kill the babysitter!
Where are my starry eyed visionaries with instruments in hand and soul in heart washing away this plague of commerce induced, slapstick jingles. Where are the prodigal leaders with golden tongues and a rational vendetta to rid us of these fowl broods who have the unnerving audacity, the unmitigated gall to tell us what we need and what we like based on pie charts that remove all remaining individuality? Where is our promised change? The one that resembles more and more like a faint whisper of a infallible law that has long since been lost in between the translations and the alpha male need to conquer, to control. I feel cheated! How do you feel?
Thanks for the friends request how was your weekend?