The flickering box talks to me
It says I should "flaunt" what I got
The world is made of two kinds of people
Those who have and those who have not
It labels all the obvious social disparities
It draws distinct class and color lines
Teaches truth with the reality shows of the unworthy
Shows us that idiots waste Donald Trump's time
I turn off my flicker box
I turn the squawk box on
I listen to its incessant quacking
Yet I still attempt to sing along
I hear Pop songs about monetary idolatry
Rappers calling girls "My B***h"
Country music about American Pageantry
People screaming they are the S**t
It offers no wealth of knowledge
But I still try to sing along
Until my ailing mind is sated
And I turn it off and leave my home.
I go to watch the "Flesh Show"
Movies exhibiting bodies torn apart
Showing pantomimes of malicious murders
That our society sees as art
Women raped, beaten, and naked
Are displayed to merely amuse
Actors who places a cost on their dignity
Are happily objectified and used
Their bodies move smartly
No one cares about a plot
We scream at the pointless explosions
Until the credits roll and it stops
I go home to play on the "Sex Net"
I think the internet is divine
All the wanton pleasures
A voyeuristic mind can ever find
It is a portable little oblivion
Where people don’t worry about their soul
Site after site of deprivation
With more flesh then you can behold
I please myself to its fornication
Then I go lie down on my bed
Dreaming of all the twisted wonders
These toys have placed inside my head
It’s been 4 days since I killed a man
I have been living with my toys
Trying to enjoy their wonder
Getting lost in their perpetual noise
Tomorrow I'll have to kill
Because the debt of my fervor has returned
I 'll have to pay the social bill
These social toys have helped me earn
© 2013 Eddie Phillips