Parquet Courts
Content Nausea
[Verse 1]
Content nausea, World War Four
Seems like it all came too soon
Another carnage apparatus
Such a disappointing doom
Abuse money, abuse drugs
Abuse body, abuse mind
People use such strange excuses
Always have done, no clue why
Most folks think and some folks know
Life's lived least when you don't let go
Of a memory, of a dream
Like an hometown better seen
On a screen or at a distance
Life lived best without resistance
People clicked and people read
"Modern life" is what it said
Pretty pictures, pretty lives
I've peered into once or twice
I'll go back but not today
It's nice to visit but it's hard to stay
In the grips of that dimension
Too much data, too much tension
Too much plastic, too much glass
Life lived least when it fears the past
My friend, he won't leave his home
Says "I am a bonfire of human bones"
"I am a bonfire of human bones"
"I am a bonfire of human bones"
[Verse 2]
And am I under some spell?
And do my thoughts belong to me?
Or just some slogan I ingested to save time?
This night is missing people
The sea, it had no one
Hardly no one
It had shapes, it had light
Some were flashing, most moved
Me, I couldn't look away
But still, no one came or left, they just stayed
But they weren't there in the first place
Overpopulated by nothing
Crowded by a sparseness
Guided by darkness
Too much, not enough
Content, that's what you call it
An infant screaming in every room in your gut
Bets strum on an intention but best left unattended
How gathered the pixels in the dust of the digital age to our being
With what do I wash?
Put on some music
My friend walks the same path every day
Steep the stairwell, cognizance to coma
Ignoring best he can an inconvenient reality
The consequential chore that unfolds in the naked sprint from screen to screen
Scrolling binary ghettos for escape
For reminders
And this would be a good year to free poets from the back padding dungeons of content and comments
To free artists from empty and vulgar broadcasting ritual
For this year it became harder to be tender
Harder and harder to remember
Meeting a friend
Writing a letter
Being lost
Antique ritual
All lost to the ceremony of progress
Like the sensual organs removed
They're only weighing you down
You didn't need them
Ignore this part, it's an advertisement
These people are famous, I'd trust them
Protesters stayed home this time around
Some enlisted, some never heard the first shots
[Verse 3]
Well I've been north and I've been south
I've been west and I've been east
Been around long enough to know
Life's lived best when scrolling least
Just a broken piece of plastic
Just another new device
Just another nervous habit
One more thing you have to buy
Just one more thing to replace
One more way to block your face
Too much data, Too much tension
Life's lived least when less is mentioned
Wasting dollars, wasting hours
Wasting talent with wasted power
No one says it but it's known
The more connected, the more alone
My friend stays at the home in the dark
Never walks up to the park
Always nauseous, always tired
I am a landmine long expired
I am a landmine