We put our faith in plastic cards

We revel in celebrations designed

To make us forget

 

Happiness can seem so elusive

When your streets are paved in blood

We bask in our illusion

Yet we are the barbarians

Strolling along the plaza

Life by the courtyard

I've only known these pleasures

From my given status card

Leisure is such a luxury

That i've been given

From the work

Of past generations

Capital and consumption

We must become the institution

Let’s go and make it an art form

Simple subtle dichotomies

Everything is in reality

So we can find beauty in the debris

Of this modern landscape