Still Smells Like Shit (no. 12)

How are you doing? …are you doing? How are you doing? I’m doing pretty well… under the circumstances… What are you doing down there? down / down / down there… I don’t want to be called unused! I don't want to be edited! You can photoshop any piece of trash to make it look almost pretty, But if you scratch the surface... it still smells like shit! Yeah, it still smells like shit! People bending, slowly fading inside their private little screens, Cultural myths drifting quietly in digital streams. Grabbing pieces of the wreckage just to keep themselves afloat, Forgetting every word that matters, every promise ever spoke! How are you doing today? I refuse to play along! Everything is smoothed out from a distance. Everything becomes aesthetic on the surface. But up close, completely close... there is only the concrete! Philosophy is standing silent while the black crows dance around, But I keep walking through the chaos with my feet on steady ground! ...Break the filter. BEING DECENT — THAT’S THE MEANING! That’s the meaning! That’s the meaning! BEING DECENT — THAT’S THE MEANING! Everything else is blatant noise! I don’t want to be called unused! I don't want to be edited! You can photoshop any piece of trash, but it still smells like shit! No-nonsense Philosophy, version 7.0! Time is rushing and slipping away, and I’m just flowing with it. I don’t want your predictable versions anymore! The smooth, the polished, the identical – the boring eighty percent! I want wrinkles! Wrinkles in the skin! Life drawn into the face! Smiles that have survived something! Bodies that have worked and done their duty! I want to see the lived life, not the polished life! I want to see wrinkles! I want to see life! Not masks. Not your aesthetic constructions. How are you doing? …under the circumstances? Why do you want wrinkles? They don't look serene. Because everything has its time. Its form. Its necessity. Time writes itself into us. What are you doing down there? I'm scratching your photoshop facade. And it smells like shit. TOOK—TAK! SCRATCH THE SURFACE! SHOW THE WRINKLES! REBOOT THE CIRCUS! In muddy brown colors, can we even smell ourselves anymore? The colors of the rainbow... and someone looks away, mostly from themselves. The same game, just different shades. But I still smell lovely. Permanent lives in the quiet, in the ones who stand alone. Building something real and human, like a place called home. He became more beautiful with age. The wrinkles made him clearer... back when I loved him. Unused! Unused! Edited! Edited! Scar Clan! Ark Clan! Hit the rhythm! BEING DECENT — THAT’S THE MEANING! That’s the meaning! That’s the meaning! BEING DECENT — THAT’S THE MEANING! Everything else is blatant noise! You can photoshop any piece of trash to make it look pretty, But the Scar Tribe is dancing, and we live in the concrete! Stress becomes source code, wrinkles become art, Ditch the rigid system, and open up the heart! No more erased nuances. No more masks. The human mind has logged off. The clean circuit is complete. Completely objective. Completely free. …under the circumstances…