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** 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 hell-up, develop a hard-edge & start openly disputing the coming retribution with restitution, 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**./
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 damn 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**s used to build sh** 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 damn 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…)(