plush captivity
where you too can lay you're weary brow in the wanting lap of lady luxury.

work in our store and buy exclusively our things,
step on the wheel to eat, and drink, and **** out new wallets with dull, lifeless, photogenic, joy.

dont ask where it came from,
or what the cost was.
it's all within your grasp if you just work a bit harder.
that new flavor experience,
a shimmering glow,
the look, the depth, the higher ground,
jealousy, worship,
confidence,
that aching hole,
finally filled,
for the small, small, price of
acquiescence.

let the hands of the master's
worry about the big things.
we know what's best and
knowing what you can't help but want is our job.
we haven't been you in ages,
if we ever were,
but the image is nice so
we'll wear the face you need us to,
at any given moment.

you need us, we know, and we'll make sure to remind you every day.
dont think about the inverse.
you're tired, hungry, poor and over worked, ashamed, scared, or just plain unconcerned; death comes
to us all, you're just waiting out your turn.

plug in awhile,
who has time to raise their heads?
we firmly have the wheel.
we know exactly what's coming up ahead.

there is no enslavement,
no punishment,
just no where else to go,
and no other way to do it.
deeds done in the dark
are done for you, in your name,
who cares about the rest?
you and yours are ok,
and really,
what else
could you
ever
really
need?