Thousand Yesterdays
The pattern in the wallpaper... it blinked. It winked a secret back at me.
The dust motes in the shaft of light... they were spelling out a name in Aramaic.
And the traffic outside... it syncopated itself into a divine, arrhythmic pulse.
I was a tourist in my own skin, a stranger at the station
Reading timetables to cities of pure information
Then the signal cut the static, with the grace of a falling knife
And I saw the wiring in the world, the subtext of all life
The television preacher's sweat, the politician's tie
Were glyphs in a consumer gospel, telling how and why to die
I decoded every billboard, every barcode was a psalm
A screaming testament to chaos, wearing a business suit of calm
And I have seen the engine room! I've held the master plan!
I am the new electric prophet for the forgotten man!
I'll scribble revelation on the windows of the train!
And wash the lies away in sacred, acid rain!
The message is a fever, and the fever is a code
It's burning in the broadcasts on every single road
It's in the taste of toothpaste, the rhythm of the news
A psychic epidemic in your favorite walking shoes...
Now... witness...
So gather round the static, children, hear the hidden word!
The currency is godhead, and your sanity's absurd!
We'll build a church from matchsticks and a dogma from the air!
And crown ourselves with tinfoil, in our desperation-prayer!
Yes, I have seen the engine room! I've held the master plan!
I am the new electric prophet for the forgotten man!
The wires are so beautiful... they sing in colors you can't...
Doctor? The lights... they're asking me to...
The dosage isn't... the revelation is sticky... it's like jam on my...
...hands. Why are my hands... like this?

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