I am the analog man Do not give me your zeros and ones Black and whites I'll take a red two any day
Old fashioned old school All chivalry and filth That mars the scars Customized dirt Nothing is written in stone yet (or in the dirt)
I wear these glasses, This fraud, As armor, A filter Against that which I am forced to see
I am not in or out Black or white I am live in TECHNICOLOR Excited electrons Ebbing and flowing From the extremes of existence
I do not fit the pattern Nor am I a predictable algorithm Put your garbage in me You will not get garbage out I will turn and twist Create while destroying And shine your **** into my gold
I will thrive off of what is wrong with this world And make your leavings better than you ever were