letra de planned obsolescence - solace zeta
planned obsolesence
[solace zeta]
verse 1:
i’m amazed at the variety of ways society is disposable/
its face-incriminates as more waste-generates even with opposable/
thumbs, dumb and un-intelligent/
modes of practice distracts-us and corrodes development/
you’ll find-next in general/
the mindset is expendable/
instead of dependable/
it isn’t disputable. it’s irrefutable, sh-t thit’s beautiful you can call-art/
but our puny communities are unsuitable for the terminology ‘cause the knowledge-be disposed-of when it’s supposed-to fall-apart/
wal-mart/
is sincerely merely the tip-of-the-iceberg/
too ill-equipped on life’s-verge/
to have sacrifice-emerge./
don’t wanna pay the price-to-purge/
the garbage, polluting our existences./
get the h-ll-up, develop a hard-edge & start openly disputing the coming retribution with rest-tution, apprehensive-as/
we realize we’re on the same-irreplaceable-ship/
of the world-fool, as we swirl in the whirlpool of demise almost became-inescapable-sh-t./
aren’t we capable-of-it?/
know it’s grim-speech but if within-weeks/
the top-of-the-line/
has dropped-behind/
then the biggest scam to our convalescence/
is the presence, of this d-mn planned obsolescence…
hook:
[)(life has no meaning any more, does it? … lives are power…lives are…the force that sustains the universe! … life has no meaning any more, does it? … to just, waste them. to throw them away without even a second thought.)(]
verse 2:
check-it-our electric-car, those ravenous capitalists kilt-it-fast./
stopped-it-&-barged-in ‘cause it would be major bad, if things were built-to-last./
their profit-margin could waver, how trag-ic it seems when dreams on stilts-collapse./
i’m taking no shorts, the supports are weak/
them and their cohorts will reach/
the demise of each enterprise, until they’re willing-it/
& realize like dylan-did:/
“the line it is drawn, the curse it is cast/
the slow one now will later be fast/
as the present now will later be past.”/
i’m spilling-it/
the whole barrel-full-of-beans/
all the unbearable-scenes/
caused by uncharitable-fiends./
all that crud-oil makes my blood-boil/
but it’ll turn-out burned-out much more before the sun-will./
we’re dumb-still/
at a standstill/
confused. are sk!lls used to build sh-t thit fills landfills?/
we should be enamored by the glamour of the hammer over the anvil/
but a head without a hand-le/
is no good, understood?/
it’s inherently apparent, the biggest scam to our convalescence/
is the presence, of this d-mn planned obsolescence…
[hook]
)(th-that’s a horrible thing! … life has no meaning any more, does it? … to just, waste them, waste them, waste them…)(
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