Parquet Courts - Content Nausea
E* A E (E*)
e|--12---5---0---|--7---|
B|--12---5---0---|--9---|
G|--13---6---1---|--9---|
D|--14---7---2---|--9---|
A|--14---7---2---|--7---|
E|--12---5---0---|---x---|
( E* - A - ) x4
E* A
Content nausea, World War Four,
seems like it all came too
soon
E* A
Another carnage apparatus, such
a disappointing doom
E* A
I've used money, I've used
drugs, Abuse body, abuse mind
E* A
People use such strange
excuses, always have done, no
clue why
E* A
Most folks think and some folks
know, life's lived least when
you don't let go
E* A
Of a memory, of a dream, like
an hometown better seen
E* A
On a screen or at a distance,
life lived best without
resistance
E* A
People clicked and people read,
'Modern Life' is what it said
E* A
Pretty pictures, pretty lives,
I peered into once or twice
E* A
I'll Go back but not today,
it's nice to visit but it's hard to stay
E* A
In the grips of bad dimension,
too much data, too much tension
E* A
Too much plastic, too much
glass, life lived least when
when fears are passed
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E* A
My friend he won't leave his
home, says "I Am a bonfire of
human bones."
E* A
I Am a bonfire of human bones,
I Am a bonfire of human bones
~ ~ (repeat A - E -) ~ ~
And Am I under some spell?
And Do my thoughts belong to me?
Or just some slogan I ingested
to save time?
This night is missing people
The sea, it had no-one
Hardly no-one, it had shapes, it had light
Some were flashing, most moved
Me, I couldn't look away
But still no-one came or left
they just stayed
But they weren't there in the
first place
Overpopulated by nothing,
crowded by a sparseness
Guided by darkness, too much,
not enough
Content, that's what you'd call it
An infant screaming in every
room in your gut
Bets strum on an intention but
best left unattended
How gathered the pixels in the
dust of the digital age to our
being
With what Do I wash?
Put on some music
My friend walks the same path
every day
Steep the stairwell, cognizance
to coma
Ignoring best he can
An inconvenient reality
The consequential chore that
unfolds in the naked sprint
from screen to screen
Scrolling binary ghettos for
escape for reminders
And this would be a good idea
to free poets
From the back padding dungeons
of content and comments
To free artists from empty and
vulgar broadcasting ritual
For this year it became harder
to be tender
Harder and harder to remember
Meeting a friend, writing a letter
Being lost, antique ritual
All lost to the ceremony of
progress
Like the sensual organs removed
They're only weighing you down,
you didn't need them
Ignore this part, it's an advertisement
These people are famous, I'd trust them
Protesters stayed home this
time around
Some enlisted, some never heard
the first shots
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
E* A
Well I've been north and I've been south,
I've been west and I've been east
E* A
Been around long enough to
know, life's lived best when
scrolling least
E* A
Just a broken piece of plastic,
just another new device
E* A
Just another nervous habit, one
more thing you have to buy
E* A
Just one more thing to replace,
one more way to block your
face
E* A
Too much data, too much
tension, life's lived least
when less is mentioned
E* A
Wasting dollars, wasting hours,
wasting talent with wasted
power
E* A
No one says it but it's known,
the more connected, the more
alone
E* A
My friend stays at the home in
the dark, never walks up to the
park
E* A
Always nauseous, always tired,
I Am a landmine, wrong supplier
E*
I Am a landmine