Hold your head up to the gun of a million cathode ray tubes aired at your tiny skull.

You were bred for humanity and sold to society. One day you'll wake up in the present day, a million generations removed from the expectations of being who you really want to be.

The sand-castle virtues are all swept away in the tidal destruction, the moral melee.

I'll pour a cup to you my darling, raise it up, say Cheerio.

Jump up, look around, find yourself some fun. No sense in sitting there hating everyone.

The excrement bubbles, the century slime decays, and the brainwashing government lackeys would have us say it's under control.

Take your place in a wiser world of bigger motor cars.