Telescreen Bible

I shake my fist
Towards the skies
Big surprise
No one replies
All these new Gods
They really got me down
Grinning beneath
Plastic crowns

Sermons held by
Crooked men with truth problems
Guide electric sheep
Through digital glens
The shackles clang
Making that same old sound
And the only way out is
Through the dirt in the ground

Please just let me sleep
Nothing good will come of this
Please just let me sleep
Nothing good will come of this

Plowing along
At a staggering pace
No one quite remembers
How we fell from grace
Radio towers
Keep blaring static mistakes
On goes the gospel
Of the United Snakes

Please just let me sleep
Nothing good will come of this
Please just let me sleep
Nothing good will come of this
Please just let me sleep
Please just let me sleep
Nothing good



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