#novelty

Psst... you look like you like fun stuff.

The screens are pulsing, bleach-white, wide, With nowhere left to slip or hide. The public grazes digital ash, While reason drowns in velvet static. A steady drip of pixel dreams, Injecting neon through our veins. We watch the synthetic lovers wed, And swallow what the prophets bled.

Bring on the dancing horses now, Let every hollow statesman bow. The ringmaster spits a polished joke, Through choking plumes of velvet smoke. The ballots cast on plastic nights, Beneath the predatory studio lights, Where leaders waltz and actors preach, To buy the things we cannot reach.

[Bridge] Oh, swipe the glass and tap the vein, And watch the modern empire wane! We vote by text, we feed the glitch, To keep the panic rich and pitch. The circus roars, the crowd is fed, With glowing feeds instead of bread!

We worship faces, airbrushed clean, Spectres that haunt the streaming screen. We trace their feuds, we map their names, Like children trapped in structured games. A culture hooked on petty fights, Through heavy, blue-lit, scrolling nights. Distracted well, we sit and stare, At architecture made of air.

A synthetic crowd, we click and care, For phantoms who were never there. We code our love for digital ghosts, And kneel before robotic hosts. The script is written, line by line, To turn the voter to a fan. A season finale, state-designed, To blind the automated man.

So crank the volume, numbing down, The most spectacular show in town! While the concrete crumbles to the floor, We cheer the circus all the more.

[Outro] All the more. Tap the glass. Feed the glitch. Watch the dancing horses spin. Neon static closing in. All the more... Cheer the circus. Cheer the circus. (Static) (Fade to black)