Marcus Wicker - Ode to Browsing the Web lyrics

Two spiky-haired Russian cats hit kick flips on a vert ramp. The camera pans to another pocket of  the room where six kids rocking holey T-shirts etch aerosol lines on warehouse walls in words I cannot comprehend. All of this happening in a time no older than your last heartbeat. I've been told the internet is an unholy place — an endless intangible stumbling ground of false deities dogma and loneliness, sad as a pile of sh** in a world without flies. My loneliness exists in every afterthought. Yesterday, I watched a neighbor braid intricate waves of cornrows into her son's tiny head and could have lived in her focus-wrinkled brow for a living. Today I think I practice the religion of  blinking too much. Today, I know no neighbor's name and won't know if  I like it or not. O holy streaming screen of counterculture punks, linger my lit mind on landing strips — through fog, rain, hail — without care for time or density. O world wide web, o viral video, o god of excrement thought. Befriend me. Be f**ing infectious. Move my eyes from one sight to the next.