Those stars you see are dead
Only blackness there instead
Sights that enlight hearts and heads
Are finite delights we misread

And those TV shows and media spiel
They're real profits for fake ideals
Our lives are dull, at worst ordeals
And to appeal to the way humans can feel
Cuts the thickest, if slickest, business deal

So we divide ourselves into groups and sides
Find the one that best describes what's 'inside'
Who we are is defined by who we stand beside
With as much control of the pride or snide chides implied
As we have over landslides or mountainsides or the tides

In the age of the original, the individual
We shun the biblical, the ritual, the miracle
And turn to the visual,
A new kind of digital Fictional
Where the  miserable are invisible
The political are cynical
The habitual criminals reciprocal
And the principles hypocritical

Those stars you see are dead
That's what the phycisist said
Even sky has us misled
When the truth that's spreaded is dreaded
The truth we bred is embedded
The easily read are easily led