Texty: Bedtime For Charlie. It Ain't About The Music. Ribbons.

(Bonus Track)

Written on every first page.
Difficult to pass by or ignore.
From the safe and wealthy comfort of our homes.
Television's a missile through the night.
Makes it so hard to resist.
So intelligent bombs really do exist.
Because that's our only way to feel all right.

Cybernetic martyr hanging on a cross
When everyone's in loss.
But we have to show off at any cost.
Think we're making the right decisions.
But up to some extent.

Carousel of good intents
Summing up to all the ones before.
Forming one big circus out of my front door.
Flaunting golden idols on the top.
Preaching wisdom from above.
But it seems my hand is too big for this glove.
So you draw another circle in my crop.

Start to realize how far all this has gone.
When everybody's wrong.
How could they keep us bound here for so long?
Mirrors braking. Undertaking.
Right up to some extent.

Hybrid manifesto's answering the cause.
Lay out a common testament to fuck us all.
A change cannot be possible if nobody even tries.
To stick our heads out of the wall that we built
with all our fears and all their lies.

But in addition we've got our mission of degradation.
But up to some extent.
Just learn to accondiscent