Succinct sacrificial sentiment
Cuddles you slowly to sleep
Pertinence practices perfect misdirection
Claps whilst you weep
For precision cloned pharmaceutical actors
To gently ferment disease
To forgo Cynicism
To harvest indecision
You'll live on slippery stepping waves
And practice complete denial
You'll tease the monster on your back
To force sedimentary lifestyle
The labyrinthine layers of living lights
Will hallucinate and derail
Till the blur
Till the blur becomes of every detail
Woah
We've got nothing
Woah
Except this money
Looking at the stars seems scripted as beauty
Becomes an over-prescribed profession
Time understandably waxes and wanes
Torment at your own discretion
You know the truth is accessible
But you'd prefer to disperse accountability
Understandably the joke's on three
Victim, spectator, the family
When violently we purge and pull
We trick the monkey to tame
I love myself then I retch to rewire
The randomised lessons from fame
I will wear prescription glasses
Have clarity where there's supposed to be
Till the blur
The blur becomes a part of me
Woah
We've got nothing
Woah
Except this money
I'm anchored to my calling
I'm stagnant I am stalling
Evolution it is over
And I feel fine
I've got my life sorted
Let me be teleported
My existence is a privilege
We're all public property
Woah
We've got nothing
Woah
Except this
Woah
We've got nothing
Woah
Except this money
Woah
We've got nothing
Woah
Except this money