Rubbing their fingers over the stereo knob The frequencies distorted on the airwaves Kings of the new world & thus apocalyptic Searching for something more pragmatic to crave
These technocrats with no concept of reality Tasking – without offering an alternate fate Demanding citizens for homages to be digital With no power to control – or else we attenuate
Words of peace have the chance to amplify Even when we’re feeling out of time/out of sync Don’t need their fiber optic lies to survive A blind man loses all when forced to blink
Tapping into a passion without any circuits Our transistors are live; we’re lovers thus discrete There’s no stopping us when their signal’s weak There’s nothing but fire & sparks when our wires meet
This life is forever altered now we’re here Do not attempt to adjust the squelch You’re listening to Radio Free America Standing proud & robust like Raquel Welch
Stepping out into the light
My eyes can’t adjust to the sunshine
Night left me with nary a sleep
Stumblin’ home to all that’s still mine
Life comes at you hard & fast on the inside
Wondering when the pitches stopped comin’ in underhand
Won’t wallow in misery nor memory of elsewhere’s joy
These speeches fail to convey truth I can’t understand
Where do we go to return to the proper roads
Did I miss the signal for the game to truly begin
I’m old these days; confused by angles & trajectories
Yet I can still & once again wipe myself clear of my sin