Flobots - Simulacra lyrics

( Everybody walks around wearing... they're walking advertisements. They've got advertisements on their clothes, ya know? The whole culture is one unified field of bought - sold - market researched, everything. People that don't have any concept if there ever was a, a culture outside of this thing that's created to make money. What's behind all this jive bullsh**?') Everybody's s**ually active (Bullsh**) Somebody out there's objectively attractive (Bullsh**) Act correctly you can match the simulacra (Bullsh**) (Bullsh**, bullsh**-bullsh**, bullsh**) Jonny 5: I went to a love hotel, I pulled a fire alarm Beat up my brother with a tennis ball container, I had my tired arm Pulling, fantasizing 'bout a blow up doll I didn't get off, it didn't go off, I didn't feel satisfied at all I wanted to run away but I didn't have a reason Got so mad one time I started cryin' and seizin' Paper after paper lookin' for something I didn't need Found one, just as I ripped it my fit was already done This is how I begun Seein' how I'm different from T.V. and I keep re-seein' it tellin' me how to be and it's bullsh** I yelled "f** the police" while they drove past Used to think I had to learn to freestyle in order to rap (Bullsh**) Everybody's s**ually active (Bullsh**) Somebody out there's objectively attractive (Bullsh**) Act correctly you can match the simulacra (Bullsh**) (Bullsh**, bullsh**-bullsh**, bullsh**) Everybody's s**ually active (Bullsh**) Somebody out there's objectively attractive (Bullsh**) Act correctly you can match the simulacra (Bullsh**) (Bullsh**, bullsh**-bullsh**, bullsh**) Faith: I tried X but I didn't know why 'Cause then I had s** but I didn't get high Supermodels are XXY It's all just a lie Kids fall for fads, see ads and wanna try it I spent twenty on a diet, so what? I still have cellulite and no bu*t No, but, but-but until you laugh and just grow up Learn to live with the bullsh** You're only gonna throw up Turnin' sick at the pulpit Preaching sermons Concernin' myth Schemin', burnin' demons that don't exist Thank God media and reality don't match I need my own private quiet zone that's My own patch of life Detached from the hype I don't wanna be imitated exactly right 'Cause truth is stranger than fiction You should change your addiction Before Disneylandlords arrange your eviction (Bullsh**) Everybody's s**ually active (Bullsh**) Somebody out there's objectively attractive (Bullsh**) Act correctly you can match the simulacra (Bullsh**) (Bullsh**, bullsh**-bullsh**, bullsh**) Jonny 5: See I wanna write a song for the missing persons The nerds and the sixty-six year old virgins Burnt out surgeons Mental patients Persians, Haitians Urban gay Asians Nymphos, blimp-nose wimps Uncorrupt cops, hermaphrodites Fat kids, black kids Anorexics tryin' to muster up an appetite Phoneless, homeless, owners of disease Anyone who slept through New Year's Eve Clumsy thieves Uneven sleeved impotent men Napalm babies with scarred skin Vietnam vets, Tourette's Syndrome girls with hairy arms Balding boys in the club with their mom In love with their mom Diabetics, anybody who just doesn't get it Stutterers, bread-bu*terers, suburb gutter-punks Wanna-be monks, CEOs who wet the bed The snails, and the angry white males And the Siamese twins who connect at the head I expect that you said "I don't want to be compared to them, I'm not weak, not a freak, I'm American" But if you stood next to 'em you'd embarra** them So let me say my prayer again I said I wanna write a song for the missing persons The nerds and the sixty-six year old virgins Burnt out surgeons Mental patients Persians, Haitians Urban gay Asians Nymphos, blimp-nose wimps Uncorrupt cops, hermaphrodites Fat kids, black kids Anorexics tryin' to muster up an appetite Phoneless, homeless, owners of disease Anyone who slept through New Year's Eve Clumsy thieves Uneven sleeved impotent men Napalm babies with scarred skin Vietnam vets, Tourette's Syndrome girls with hairy arms Balding boys in the club with their mom In love with their mom Diabetics, anybody who just doesn't get it Stutterers, bread-bu*terers, suburb gutter-punks Wanna-be monks, CEOs who wet the bed The snails, and the angry white males And the Siamese twins who connect at the head I said the snails and the angry white males and the leeches Dogs without tails and the star-bellied Sneetches Sneetches without stars And women behind bars And men who design cars Intending to find Mars And anyone I'm far from anyone in my region Buppies, guppies, scrubs, pigeons, and Norwegians Finns, and the angry white men And the Siamese twins who connect at the head