| Only distractions
|
| No interactions
|
| I just can’t face the thought of someone getting one over me
|
| Detractions
|
| Retractions
|
| The factions to be all that you can be
|
| Pacing this room again
|
| Locked deep inside this pin
|
| Outside it’s caving in
|
| An Inland Empire
|
| The streets are paved with drones
|
| Suburban sheltered homes
|
| Where all the blinds are closed
|
| Therein the truth unfolds
|
| A new World Disorder
|
| As we reach out with hopeful hands
|
| A new World Disorder
|
| So fight the good fight
|
| Don’t say you’r sorry
|
| There’s no room left in m for apologies
|
| I’ll admit I’m melancholy
|
| That’s no excuse for the way this all may seem
|
| This is a State of Emergency
|
| Said mercy on your knees
|
| No human contact please
|
| An Inland Empire
|
| Computing every phrase
|
| This introverted maze
|
| We disconnect again
|
| Online where no one wins
|
| A new World Disorder
|
| As we reach out with hopeful hands
|
| A new World Disorder
|
| So fight the good fight
|
| Don’t say you’re sorry
|
| There’s no room left in me for apologies
|
| I’ll admit I’m melancholy
|
| That’s no excuse for the way this all may seem
|
| Contingency is clearly blurry
|
| I tell you what, it’s not the end, hey look at me
|
| Inside I’m truly screaming
|
| And making moves in my own complacency
|
| So fight the good fight
|
| Don’t say you’re sorry
|
| There’s no room left in me for apologies
|
| I’ll admit I’m melancholy
|
| That’s no excuse for the way this all may seem
|
| Contingency is clearly blurry
|
| I tell you what, it’s not the end, hey look at me
|
| Inside I’m truly screaming
|
| And making moves in my own complacency
|
| Only distractions
|
| No interactions
|
| I just can’t face the thoughts of someone getting one over me
|
| Detractions
|
| Retractions
|
| The factions to be all that you can be |