| Sometimes I stare for too long into the sun
|
| Until my vision grows grainy with pixels
|
| I can feel the dials in my forebrain turn
|
| Someone’s in there, tampering with the controls
|
| Each new day sweeps the boundaries away
|
| And I’m left to redefine
|
| Where the machines end and my mind begins anew
|
| In this place
|
| The background chatter is digitally remastered
|
| And thousands of lenses bend the light
|
| Until riddles are all I can see
|
| Each new day sweeps the boundaries away
|
| And I’m left to wonder why
|
| I should trust anything that I hear, see or think anymore
|
| They’ve filtered and vetted the input I’m getting
|
| And cross-referenced it with the finest algorithms
|
| Ensuring that all content will seamlessly sync
|
| With the receivers they’ve built in my brain
|
| That’s the just the way that we do things these days
|
| And it’s improving at an exponential rate
|
| They’ve made my skull an echo chamber
|
| It clangs with thoughts they’ve designed
|
| There’s no room for me in here anymore
|
| Time to shut up and accept it |