| haven’t we got some place else to be?
|
| cash in our collective memories
|
| they go cheap
|
| the lines are open
|
| testing 1, 2, 3
|
| but disconnection’s still our sweetest dream
|
| like it’s free
|
| exit, please
|
| call it love with a new face
|
| and new guts, a growth industry
|
| 'cause we’re all headed west
|
| whatever we think we believe
|
| never have i felt so well-policed
|
| why should i be anything but pleased?
|
| sit down
|
| now the best you can be
|
| is the beast that they don’t want to see
|
| but you’ll never get over
|
| you’re greasing the adding machine
|
| surveilled and serene
|
| they hype satisfaction
|
| until you forget where you’ve been
|
| and we’re all headed west
|
| whatever we think we believe in
|
| call it love with a new face
|
| and new guts, a growth industry
|
| but you’ll never get over
|
| you’re greasing the adding machine
|
| surveilled and serene
|
| they hype satisfaction
|
| until you forget where you’ve been
|
| the exploded view shows that
|
| there’s nothing cementing the seams |