you wake in the morning but you re hard to find a look in the mirror what you ve left behind you go to your job or you wander round there s plenty of stuff but nothing to be found you re a late twentieth century post modern refugee a late twentieth century post modern tragedy there s nothing that ll move ya there s plenty to be bought there s no kind of mystery there s no new thought tied up in your neurotic knots airhead celebrities that s all you got you re a late twentieth century post modern refugee a late twentieth century post modern tragedy separated from nature and earth you foraged once now you re chained to the hearse you disappeared in the checkout line the price you paid was always just fine you re a late twentieth century post modern refugee a late twentieth century post modern tragedy
['electro-industrial', 'industrial', 'industrial metal', 'industrial rock']