Ghosts of past performances
Flicker through the screen
As thirty second tidbits
Of synthesized self-esteem
On display in the electric cascade
Of an endlessly rolling wheel.
Take a look, take a peak
At souls sold for attention.
Give a second, give a minute,
Place your time upon this altar.
But what do you expect to reap
Sacrificing your life to this machine
Where nothing's holy, nothing's sacred,
And nothing's what it seems?
Dec 26, 2020
Dec 26, 2020 at 1:21 AM UTC
Ghosts of past performances
Flicker through the screen
As thirty second tidbits
Of synthesized self-esteem
On display in the electric cascade
Of an endlessly rolling wheel.
Take a look, take a peak
At souls sold for attention.
Give a second, give a minute,
Place your time upon this altar.
But what do you expect to reap
Sacrificing your life to this machine
Where nothing's holy, nothing's sacred,
And nothing's what it seems?