Salutations

These are only words
 And artificial tones
 We're just skin-and-bones playing telephone with things
 Probably never said at all
 This world is stitched with schemes
 Where once, there was reality
 It's hard to reach across the unbelievable distance of
 Being what we really are and who we claim to be
 And the irony engine isn't lost on me
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 The shame is that we saw it coming
 In the faces of the young among us
 In crayon-and-paper drawings
 The clearest writing on the wall we could ever ask for
 What do they believe?
 Where are all their fathers?
 Where are all their mothers?
 Who left them there alone
 With the television remote like some Philosopher's Stone
 "Figure it out on your own, child."
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 If I still have anything to say
 I'll try to make it plain
 Contrivance is a luxury I don't have
 In the time that's left before the madness overtakes me
 I'm a voice among the voices
 The roar of whispers closes in
 And the point seems to be pointless
 And I've forgotten who I am
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 And I've forgotten who I am
 These are only words...
 Artificial tones...
 ♪
 These are only words...
 These are only words...