Welcome to some kind of breed, 'does this make you happy?'
They got you working the machines, Mr. Grieves is shadowing
New generations for the hunt
Millions of new minds to gut
Technicism is scary and the singularity
No more analog for us, 'does this make you happy?'
The moving principle means going forward
Without the drag of the modern world
They had me wired, they had me tapped
I lived on a grid, centered the map
Used to live on a salary, fed my guts to the IRS
Dropped out for an alter wage, sold my soul to the DEA
Started living a private life, away from magnetic traps
Now they have no part of me, Im just an obsolete thing
The modern world is surrounding me
The modern world is slowly burning.