We’ve totaled all our totems just to glower under towers;
Handed in our scrotums; douched away our feminine powers.
We’ve traded in our lifetimes in exchange for prescribed hours.
We once basked beneath the heavens; awed by meteor showers,
But now we’re fed our heavens via signals from the towers…

We’re the antennae squatting upon the set,
So the gods in the TV can tell us what to fret,
But do you ever stop to regret
What they’ve forced us to forget?
We paid for this, but what a debt…

We felt infected by a plague known as freedom,
But the antidote… my god, what have we done?

Totaled all our totems…
Traded in our lifetimes…
Ignore meteor showers,
Just to stare at radio towers.

When I go out each day,
Despite what I might say,
There's an immense rage--
A mental cage--
That just won't go away.

I keep it all inside,
Where I wish that I could hide.
'Cause without that net,
There'd be much regret,
And so much more homicide.

There's poison in the masses' veins.
There's torment waiting to be aimed.
And I see it in their eyes.
And while I wish that I could maim--
To reciprocate their ****** blame--
I guess I'm just not that sort of guy.

The sort of guy who gives a ****,
'Bout all those who they torment, it...
It's not something I'm proud to say,
But I'm gonna say it anyway:
I feel it when I go out each day.

I see them cry; I see them hurt,
And, sure, I go on high-alert--
I WISH that I could care for them--
But then I remember a time back when...
When I hurt the same and they...
They'd do what I do...
When I go out each day.

Now ask yourself:
*Am I that way...?

Just what do you believe you see when you think you see clearly?
Is it the same for those around you? Do you think they would agree?
Can you define reality? Can you give me a description?
Welcome to my world, now let me write you a prescription.

With teeth as white as doctors' pads, they'll drug you with their lies!
Their speech won't teach but rather breach the scene seen by your eyes!
So tell me now just what is real; please offer some conviction.
Or I can lend you some of mine; let me write you a prescription.

There's nothing real but what's really in your mind.
There's nothing true but all that you are able to define.
You say it's your reality, but I'm pretty sure it's mine;
An uncomfortable notion though it is to get behind.

Can you stick within my world for now, just coexist with me?
Though sad, I swear it won't be long before you return to slavery.
The pain you feel--what you claim is real--is a voluntary affliction,
So bear with my reality, and let me write you a prescription.

You can be free of the terror of your ordinary life,
Just by letting go of all the thoughts that bring you strife.
I've seen your world! A world where pain and fear is rife!
But in my world the pen can cut much deeper than a knife.

I cannot make you take this simple-yet-complex cure.
It's the kind of thing that works only if you're sure.
Though there exists in us a mind, in every ma'am and every sir,
There aren't many who will use them, of this I can infer.

So I leave the choice to medicate solely within your hands.
I'm not the type to give out orders; I make no harsh demands.
I simply hope to rid the world of this misery-driven addiction,
So please, my friend, do come in, and let me write you a prescription.

Twas under the brightest silver moon,
That I witnessed true perfection bloom--
Her hair like silken petals; her figure strong and proud--
And all this beauty blossomed five full months from June.

Just as frail as flowers, though, her splendor was painfully brief,
And, though many said I must move on, I could not contain my grief.
I could not bring myself to so easily sway!
I just did not have it in me to turn over a new leaf.

My mind's been a flutter with floating blossoms of her face.
A cloud of radiant spores I'm forever forced to chase.
This wasn't just a fish occupying a vast sea;
There were no other flowers that could occupy my shattered heart-vase.

And now her name's like perfume foreign to all other noses,
I've found a simple remedy that alleviates my pain.
But, as the garden of my heart festers and decomposes,
I feel a little better every time I burn the roses.