The War

There's a war going on inside...

(Yo)

There's a war going on inside

No man is safe from

You can run

But you can't hide from yourself

Your life is for sale

Your soul's on the shelf

See a ghost in the mirror

But don't cry for help

Another robot

Fresh off the conveyor belt

Sniff this, smoke that

Kill off all your braincells

Pimp your girl, pimp your world

Tell em sex sells

In this Petri dish We treading on eggshells

While they play god with your stem cells

I can tell the future

And this isn't gonna end well

Troops on manoeuvrer

They still looking for the oil well

Blair making money post-office

Like the Royal Mail

Alarm bells ringing

[?]

Tip the scale

Before the Devil take us all to Hell

All hail the high exalted alpha male

But the silent runner's hot on Mother Nature's trail

"I love it

I love it

I love it

I love it

I love it

I love it

I love it

I love it[?]"

[Verse 2]

There's a war going on inside

No man is safe from

You can run

But you can't hide from the truth

Your life is a raffle

I present the news

Switch the channel

Or stay tuned

You choose

One false move

Move the goalposts

You lose

You're a faulty robot

With some loose screws

And a short fuse

And it's evident

That you lack the evidence

To support your views

Form an orderly queue

Let em herd the sheeple

No respect for the sky above you

Or Earth beneath you

Hollow sentiments

Transparent

Your words are see-through!

No love when these back stabbers

Are so deceitful

But I keep my energy positive

Cause life hangs in the balance

Of this dynamic opposites

Humanoid robotics

In this modern metropolis

The battle to control

The consciousness of the populous!

[Outro, Alan Watts]

"The riches that we produce are ephemeral. And as the result of that we are frustrated, and terribly frustrated. We feel that the only thing is to go on getting more and more. And as a result of that. the whole landscape begins to look like the nursery of a spoiled child. who's got too many toys and is bored with them, and throws them away as fast as he gets them

Also we are dedicated to a tremendous war on the basic material dimensions of time and space. We want to obliterate their limitations. We want to get everything done as fast as possible. We want to convert the rhythms and the skills of work into cash

And then rush home to get away from work and begin the real business of life, to enjoy ourselves. To be the real point of life, what you rush home to get to, is to watch, an electronic reproduction of life. You can't touch it, it doesn't smell, and it has no taste

You might think that people getting home to the real point of life in a robust material culture would go home to a colossal banquet, or an orgy of love-making, or a riot of music and dancing; But nothing of the kind

It turns out to be this purely passive contemplation of a twittering screen. As you walk through suburban areas at night it doesn't matter what part of the community it is, you see mile after mile of darkened houses with that little electronic screen flickering in the room. Everybody isolated, watching this thing. And thus in no real communion with each other at all

The spectacles one sees on this television it's perfectly proper to exhibit people slugging and slaying each other but oh dear no, not people loving each other, except in a rather restrained way

One can only draw the conclusion that the assumption underlying this is that expressions of physical love are far more dangerous than expressions of physical hatred

And it seems to me that a culture that has that sort of assumption is basically crazy and devoted - unintentionally indeed but nevertheless in-fact devoted not to survival, but to the actual destruction of life."