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lirik lagu om unit - 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
k!ll off all your braincells
pimp your girl, pimp your world
tell em s-x sells
in this petri dish we treading on eggsh-lls
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 h-ll
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 sp-ce. we want to obliterate their limitations. we want to get everything done as fast as possible. we want to convert the rhythms and the sk!lls 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 p-ssive 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 fl!ckering 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 -ssumption 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 -ssumption is basically crazy and devoted – unintentionally indeed but nevertheless in-fact devoted not to survival, but to the actual destruction of life.”

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