Plattenbau Persephone Praxis

The white noise is wasting me
 A thousand spinning plates and nobody's doing the dishes
 Breathe in, the body rises
 Exhale and the mind sinks
 Cloying brains brought back from the brink
 Another stimulant, another drink
 With coffee-stained nerves and finger-stained keys
 Furrowing digital fields, hands lashed to the plough
 Let it be this, let it be now
 Searching for meaning in the depths of the well
 In the wiring inside, in the ringing of bells
 ♪
 The coding of elegance, the gatekeeping of eloquence
 Where sparking switchboards dazzle and dance into deference
 Where starry eyes meet light pollution
 Where word of mouth meets gathered feet and dissolution
 We're each kept in the dark as the black-bagging begins
 Kicked out on the street for their sins
 I won't be dragging my feet any more
 Than they're dragged through the mud
 Hands riddled with wages
 Fists dripping with blood
 Why do the hungry pick all the food?
 Why do the naked sew sequins, secluded in sweatshops?
 Why do the capitalists blame those without jobs?
 We're all in, all in up to our necks
 Horizons foreshortened with your nose to the ground
 The wasting starts younger than birth
 The coping narcotics bloom neglect
 And a face in the dirt
 A beating to sate latent hurt
 And, after all, things can't get worse
 When it's the third time this year
 You've carried friends from a hearse
 As if for hunger we yearn
 As if to cauterise a burn
 ♪
 I gazed into the tubes to find reason
 And cathode rays beamed through my each, every nerve
 Persephone
 The natrescent glow of the after-dark Styx
 And skin of white phosphorus leave me
 Transfixed on the monitor
 And I see you there, and squinting revealing
 These pixels depicting your fear
 The marble as cold as objectification
 No will of your own
 Still passed between unfeeling hands
 With head to the glass, I wept