Freedom from thought frees no one
Except those who think for you
How much of your life is spent supressing what you really feel?
Ridicule and derision greet any attempt to find what's real
So easy and so effortless to cast your thoughts aside
So hard to realise you're being taken for a fucking ride
They'll tell you that black is white
Soon You're believing that day is night
As the tangled weeds take root in your fallow mind
Capitulate control
Someone else owns your soul
Drifting aimless in a miasma of the most shallow kind
Tuning out, turning off, dropping in to the slot reserved for you
Hollow meaningless existence in a life that's so untrue
Have you ever really asked yourself how free you really are
Will that tattered spark of light rekindle into a blazing star
They'll tell you that black is white
Soon You're believing that day is night
As the tangled weeds take root in your fallow mind
Capitulate control
Someone else owns your soul
Drifting aimless in a miasma of the most shallow kind
Of the most shallow kind...
Told what you should buy, told what you should need
By the machine you feed
Told what you should love, told what you should hate
Maybe it's not too late
Told what you should buy, told what you should need
By the machine you feed
Told what you should love, told what you should hate
Maybe it's not too late
I hope it's not too, I hope it's not too late.
I hope it's not too, I hope it's not too late.