Mugs

Psyops oppostion, microcosmically of course

If I am subjected to this same tired, old program once more,
This TV set of mine is going right out the door.
At first it was wonderful stories, however in time,
It all becomes the same thing, repeating over and over.
Have you ever taken a sledgehammer to a TV screen?
I didn't think so, could you even exist without one?
Before the show goes off the air, I dare you to turn away,
Instead of watching the same ominous, inevitable final scene,
Close your eyes, go deep inside, I promise we're really alive.
Maybe the finish will be different this time.
Satellites sending sordid signals, how could they lie.
The world wide cobweb, this isn't 'news'.
It's the blues perpetuated consistently throughout history.
These fools blindly accept their roles in the play.
Tricks and treats preface the souls defeat.
After this, real dreams occur no more, only reruns at this hour,
Mugs, ready to do anything as long as it feeds the machine.
Please stop, I implore, I don't think I can stand these shows anymore.