In an age of video wallpaper and aural anesthesia,
Music has become a prostitute.
No longer is it a gift from the gods;
It has become a pacifier,
a tranquilizer,
and a tool.
A tool to protect us from loneliness,
to entice us to buy
and to keep us from seeing
how bad things have become.
At one time,
music was a vital experience,
it was physical,
emotional,
almost religious.
Today music is just
one more device
used by the new sun king
called civilization
to control itself.
She wears a halo of ashes Specter on the wind Waits on me so patiently…
Lonely I wander through scenes of my childhood They bring back to memory the happy…
Hey little rich boy Take a good look at me Hey little rich boy Take…
You wind me up Like a clockwork orange Then you hide the key To my…
Yo yo, aiyyo, yo Think it's bout time that I heat y'all up Y'all easy…
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