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if we divorce ourselves from the o-zone layer of satellite imagery distance ourselves from the rubber tire smog ground floor and deafen ourselves to the grinding churning mine tap-the-oil underground, we might just be able to breathe for another hundred [dog] years see the stars again but we plug ourselves committed to optimism into today's russian roulette choice tv show shove isolate-your-superior-musical-tastes love songs into our uneducated sophistiquée I'm-an-arts-student ears and crank up the volume bleed out our hearts in song dance smiles and we feel-good appreciate notions that all we need is love but unanimously u

subliminal side-track kickstart to your lemonade day chew the wrapper thirty times and fall down revel in an all-new Hallmark occasion to live plastic ants and iPhones grind grind grind marching cement-tinfoil-Plexiglas pillars oppressing and overbearing time with the shadows of the limelight condemning life to the cracks-in-the-sidewalk faraway reaches of sand broken glass beaches Frisked up with Mentos unseeables must integrate integrate retrograde alleviate our pulses hide away the secrets we consume and proliferate a re-cap on what's acceptable to Be American wave your stars-spangled twenty-dollar flag in the faces of