I live deep within these caves of concrete and polished steel
Cut off from all the things of the world that are beautiful and real.
Reluctantly I awake, to the clock's persistent chime.
I hop in my super-car, and fight the crowd to punch in on time

I'm caught in the web, Spider-establishment close at hand.
Free will in an illusion, like water upon the desert sand
Our technology like fresh paint upon the kitchen floor,
Has us trapped back against the wall, in a corner without a door.

The hypercritic, pious sinners set in church to pray,
but the hell they fear most is the life they live every day
See not what a man does, rather see the style of his clothes.
Speak of your wealth, your parties, and so on. . . and on it goes

As EARTH lies on her death bed, her condition is no concern,
to all those who have raped her . . .
But with her passing. . . WE SHALL ALL BURN