Orbiting pods, underwater domes - We fill our tanks with oxygen to step outside our homes. Once it was hard, now it's just routine And I can't tell the difference between people and machine. Love was a problem for our ancestors; It's not such a problem anymore. Breeding as a science proved it has no use at all And it mostly disappeared when we eliminated war. There's comfort and control, it's safe for you and me. News from the surface shows how hard life there can be. Why live in danger? Why live with pain? People from the surface find it hard to explain. And every little thing is strictly monitored; We're given everything we need. Fed by I.V., we rarely need to sleep - There's no pointless dreaming and our happiness is guaranteed.
I know the Ether can never claim the Earth. Atmospheric gasses cannot remain with dirt. We purchase pleasure, pay for it with hurt And we rarely get our money's worth. See how we grasp at the stars? They're so far away, you can't even see what's right in front of you. Flesh wounds heal; broken bones mend But you're not my friend - I never want to see you again.
"You only hurt the one you love." That may be true, but better said: "You only hurt the one who loves you." We went through hell just to get to hell - Die of thirst or drink up from the poisoned well. If I kept things inside, at least I never lied. I'm not trying to document my suicide. You won't live long, but you may write the perfect song; Please excuse those who choose to not play along.
Everday we earn our meager pay But it takes its toll to play the happy prole. They buy your labor, try to steal your soul - Bite the bullet, hold your tongue and play the happy prole. Paranoid and tired - quit before you're fired. But they've got you in the hole, so you play the happy prole. You need the money so you got to play it dumb, but if you play it long enough it's just what you become. Pay your rent, pay your bills, pay the doctor for your pills So you can work another day, as life slips away.
Repair the hull, replace the sails. The monkey wrestles with the ghost And a thousand little pleasures form a thin veneer Over lack of hope. The captain was rightly murdered by the crew But now they don't know what to do - Drifting on the murky Sargasso of the everyday. Work and slave and skimp and save And you can buy yourself a bigger cage And a thousand little cruelties we agree to pretend to ignore. The ghost has got the monkey by the tail And all they both can do is wail. And you and I go drifting by the abandoned vessels of the everyday.
You can be so heartless; I can be heartless too: And we can wound each other - isn't that what people do? You can't be betrayed when there's nothing to betray You can't throw it all away when there's nothing there anyway Nothing from nothing leaves nothing.
Life is dull life is gray; At its best it's just OK. But I'm happy to report Life is also short. So I find myself back in California - I'm a coolie for the tourists, those happy Epicureans: Evil spectres from my own suburban upbringing. As I reveal points of interest, I can chat so pleasantly, But it's hard to be cheerful when you feel so hopeless And there's no reason for this dark mood. It will pass; it will return, but will I ever learn? And the children of privilege begging for my spare change. Do they need my assistance to purchase their intoxicants, or would they best be served a swift kick Slowly sinking in the vast ambivalent sea of California.
You never cried, you never froze And yet how well your garden grows - You reap the fruits another sows; I guess that works out well for you. Suffering has served you well - It's common but it somehow sells So sing your little songs of hell and sell. Hollow hopes and empty dreams And blind pursuit of worthless schemes - That's all there is to life, it seems, unless you prove me wrong - please do!
They say "Hold on to your dreams" That plays good on TV, but never worked for me. So now I need to find a way to occupy my time Until the day I die because I give up. It's gone so wrong so long, it's gone so wrong. So long; I give up.
Birds fighting in mid-air - & all the sky is theirs. Theirs: all of the sky - Yet they peck another's eye. Free as a bird... Or is that just a word? Oh, to be free - To free myself from me.