Song Description

A jab at pop culture icons and their knack for dealing with issues that don't matter.

Lyrics

If you'd put your ear to the ground, the world is sighing Every breath is laboured and oh so loud I've become immune to the sound of the masses crying, With prophetic illusion I face the crowd I've forgotten my place in the game, how it feels to live life so confined Whisper softly to fuel the decay of the violence in your vernal, plastic minds Wash my hands of the burdens of fame and the healing lease on life you crave And watch you fall farther behind. I'll sell my cane to fictile breeds of adherents Fertile fields of jaded souls and malcontents A want-not, taste-not, feel-not, fear-not ignorance to To the insurgent few. I can feed you relief from the days when the real alights upon your smile A mellisonant escape from the pain of the silence, the essence of denial Close your eyes, let it all slip away, as the feel of peace flows through your veins And rest your weary souls a while.