| A mirror I control
|
| Extension of my soul
|
| I see myself through your console
|
| You’re still an evening screen
|
| But terrestrial TV
|
| Never used to judge me
|
| Look inside
|
| There’s a world inside
|
| (I don’t know but Lord it feels like)
|
| Everyone’s using
|
| Everyone’s using
|
| Everyone’s using it
|
| It’s hard enough it seems
|
| To keep up with these things
|
| It’s sick and all so cynical
|
| (I don’t know but Lord it feels like)
|
| Misanthropy still pays
|
| A pound a word a day
|
| And I’m still reading, seething
|
| (I don’t know but Lord it feels like)
|
| Everyone’s using
|
| Everyone’s using
|
| Everyone’s using it
|
| We were young then, ridiculed them
|
| When they said they saw our futures in the palm of our hands
|
| With their keyboards
|
| Slow fingers
|
| They know us
|
| We don’t know what’s wrong with us
|
| We’re all feeling it
|
| But we’re still feeding it
|
| Yeah we’re all feeling shit
|
| Look outside
|
| There’s a world outside
|
| (I don’t know but Lord it feels like)
|
| Everyone’s using
|
| Everyone’s using
|
| Everyone’s using it
|
| (I don’t know but Lord it feels like) |