Lee Bains + The Glory Fires
Post-Life
It barks, pledge allegiance to the FBI
Submit to the will of the self-guided rocket
It hisses, swear fealty to the CEO
Beg for mercy at the altar of the market
It'll run your mind 'til it skitters like a ragged-out hard drive
Push your body 'til it smokes like a rented machine
Feed you ice-cold, hope to reinstall the system
Synthetic dope to wipe the memory clean
Time to time, I just get a mind
To resign
It's got shockin' new proof, virtues are obsolete
Old-time religion's just superstition
It grants eternal life in the cryonic vault
All-knowin' judgment in the facial-recognition
Down at the Sunday-mornin' laser-light show
I can't find no sanctuary and they don't sing the old hymns
It's twisted scripture into science, Jesus into Caesar
Bein' yourself into a sin
Lord, I pray that on some happy day
I'll fly away from this post-life (Post-life)
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Letras de cancionesPost-life (Post-life)
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Post-life
Ah, ah
You can't hide out in the country
You can't wild out in the city
There's no place but here, there's no time but now, child
No time but now
It'll rip the soul from your cookin', the home place from your voice
And the thunder from your songs
It'll sell you back the bootlegs, stare at you with dead flickerin' eyes
Like it didn't do nothin' wrong
And as it's stickin' the cash in the vault
It'll smirk and give a lecture on the myth of authenticity and truth
But when you come for what you're owed
It'll put lawyers on the steps and guns on the roof
Hot damn, boy, what a joyful noise
When we destroy this post-life (Post-life)
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Ah, ah
(Post-life)
It'll turn your soul into a brand and your story into content (Post-life)
It'll turn your friends into followers, your town into a market (Post-life)
It'll turn your car into a taxi and your house into a hotel (Post-life)
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It'll turn the past into a vapor, the future into a cold hell (Post-life)
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It's got high-dollar, low-flavor gringo tacos (Post-life)
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It's got weak-blooded, focus-group, nostalgia-cult rock shows (Post-life)
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It's got do-gooder trophies for billionaire sweatshop bootstrap-stranglers (Post-life)
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It's got peace prizes for genocide-chiefs and land-thieves, droneswarm-slingers (Post-life)
Woo (Post, post, post, post)
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You got a, hey, oh (Post, post, post, post)
Oh (Post-life)
From Letras Mania