thursday
9/2/04
5:14pm

WELCOME TO THE MACHINE

I know what you see
When you're looking at me
A stock share
A price cut
A commodity

The core of my being
Recoils at the thought
That you think you know me
Because of what I bought

I buy second-hand, thrift stores, the internet
That confounds you, disturbs you, I'm willing to bet

I don't take prescription drugs, don't smoke or drink
And I don't give a fuck what your analysts think

You've tracked all my purchases, watched what I do
Tried to pin down my idols, and the people I talk to

Your investigating has yielded no clue
As to what makes me tick, or why I hate you

"She doesn't like Britney Spears, rap or EMO rock
But she comes from this age-group, and this racial stock"

What flow-chart do I fit in? What demographic?
You have all the data, so why can't you graph it?

I wish I could tell you that there is an answer
But if I speak up, it will spread like a cancer

It's capitalism, consumers and buyers
They're zombies and vampires - thiefs, cheats, and liars

I loathe all your schemes to get me to buy shit
I despise you for thinking you know me, I hate it

The harder you try to pin me to the wall
The faster I'll kick, and the harder you'll fall

Labels don't suit me, I just don't like wearing them
I don't want your names, and I don't enjoy hearing them

So keep all your theories and thoughts to yourself
It's a big world out there, now go pick someone else.