Whenever I’m doubting motives, I look at the practical gimmick, The tactical leverage, calculating the profit they gain from exhibit. What is there really to gain out of it? Is it status, clout, or cash? People deliberate every initiative just to establish a name before the crash. Ask yourself the simple question: what’s the profit in the play they present? Everybody’s selling a narrative, desperately fishing for praise and consent. Modern life became a theater, a public spectacle display for the crowd, Spewing worthless commentary constantly just to hear it sounding out loud. It’s a broken economic model, market flooded with noise and friction, High supply of cheap opinions traded off like counterfeit fiction. And nobody gives a damn about the truth until reality drops. I ain’t saying my perspective is holy or something you should buy, But I don’t care enough for status to construct an elaborate lie. I’m just me, man. Fixing up motors, gaming with the crew online, Seeing right through their design, retreating back to a quiet spot with my hound, 'Cause a dog don't care about a clout check sitting on the ground. Rather kick it with my pit bull than a room full of suits in a fake venue, Living simple in the quiet while I evaluate the menu. We’re trapped inside the loops they designed for us to run in, Watching public theater while the heavy motor’s hummin’. Everybody’s selling out for status, clout, and view, I’m just sitting on the porch looking for something that is true. Yeah, the grease is in the gears and the rat race is exhausting, Counting up the human cost of what this circus costing. Look at the sinister minister of the digital age as a fraud entity, Pushing a narrative, lucrative, imperative, selling a fake identity! Systematic, cinematic, problem is thematic, everybody chasing applause, Puttin' on a show while the corporate machine operates without any pause! We're locked inside a circuit, as a product that is perfect, working till we’re dead in the dirt, Having knowledge of the trap doesn't mean you can clear it, it amplifies the hurt! Fully aware of the scam and the scheme, but I’m caught in the cell, You can analyze the cage, feel the rage on the page, but you’re still trapped inside of the hell! Because the blueprint guards itself from any realistic remedy, Protecting monopolies, corrupting economy, inducing immediate penalty! We possess technology, means, and machinery to make it comfortable to survive, A simple, decent life for everybody on the planet where humanity could actually thrive. Instead the overwhelming greed of elite suffocates potential every time they arrive, Sucking up resources, draining out energy, keeping all their hoards alive! Exhausting, man! I wake up in the morning with my energy depleted, Knowing every mechanism in society is carefully constructed to make sure we get defeated! Check speed of machinery, spinning the scenery, trapping the citizen instantly, Deliberately making the maze to protect itself, guarding the exits continuously! Calculated, fabricated, complicated, every step we take anticipated, Every single movement surveyed and updated, while our independence is degraded! Look at how they manipulate the metric, making everybody desperate to generate a click, Fabricating dynamic epidemics of anxiety to sell another band-aid quick! They construct the whole system to guard itself against a break-in or a citizen rebellion, While corporate executives calculate profits off every single narrative they're sellin'! That’s the part that hits heavy in the chest when sitting alone in the quiet— We got the tools and capacity to give humanity a rest and pacify the riot! To let every single person live a simple, clean, decent life without the struggle, Without constant paranoia, poverty, and pressure that we juggle. Greed sits heavy on the throne, choking out the room, suffocating every bloom, Selling off the future of our children just to turn another dollar off impending doom! I’d rather stay right here, fix my truck, kick back on the porch with my dog, Than waste my whole damn life trying to climb up through performative fog. It’s simple, man. I just want to live before I die. No fronting. No theater. No fake shit. No lie. We’re trapped inside the loops they designed for us to run in, Watching public theater while the heavy motor’s hummin’. Everybody’s selling out for status, clout, and view, I’m just sitting on the porch looking for something that is true. Yeah, the grease is in the gears and the rat race is exhausting, Counting up the human cost of what this circus costing. Just kick back on the porch for a second, man. Let the noise die down. Screw their status, screw their money, screw their theater. Let 'em keep their fake stage and public performance. We got this quiet night... real life... and a breath of fresh air.
