Growing up not knowing what was stolen to create you
White picket fence stained with blood
Turning workers into machines to be replaced by machines
You lie awake waiting for the rivers to flood
Their bodies are rotting
Your words are empty
Their blood is draining
Your culture is empty
You can scream all you like, but the worms have already gotten to them
Touching the screen is like touching their face
Everybody experiences a sense of learned helplessness
All watched over by machines of loving grace
Their bodies are rotting
Your words are empty
Their blood is draining
Your culture is empty
I had to form sunshine out of dust and broken glass
While crying to myself in a bathroom stall
The real truth of their vacuum ideology
If you don't fit they don't give a shit at all
Their bodies are rotting
Your words are empty
Their blood is draining
Your culture is f*cking empty