You think your life is bland
Imagine if you couldn’t taste
You think your life is all planned
Imagine if it was all a waste
The air is getting harder to breathe
Through this peerless haze I can no longer see
Forget about swimming in the scum filled streets
It’s all getting drowned out by the monster beats
This whole thing is just a system
And we let ourselves get controlled
Sometimes I wish they would just listen
So we could get rid of this mold
You’ve got to sculpt your own mold
So you don’t get bowled
Over by the bureaucracy that’s devising the best way
To make them the most gold
Your life is awaiting in the spice rack
That you got to dust off lying in your cluttered mind
All you’ve got to do is pull out the thyme
To find a life that will be so sublime
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