Lyrics Introduction - Akala

Last night - Last night I did a rare thing.
Last night I sat down to watch tel-eye-vision
The news burned breaches into my brain.
Apparently bombs bring democracy,
And some cultures benefit from the scolding of their childrens' flesh.
The civilization-spreading lobby leaking lies
Scripted a show business for murder's mouthpiece.

I'm used to this fuckery. Numbed now
Perhaps I'm a coward or a cunt, or both.

My curtain calls

I laugh the awkward laugh of an asshole
Who thinks this world can improve, but still
Can't reconcile my love of humanity,
With my consumption of death

I change the program, and Huxley replaces Orwell.
Some assemblance of flesh, world famous for being famous,
Takes her dog for a day spa - I shit you not.
Manicures and massages for dogs.
Pets pampered while people starve.

My curtain calls again

I'm not so moral after all.
Switch to the channels that once played a thing called
Music... You'll never guess what I saw.
Champaigne, fast cars, bitches and bakinis.
I mean how did these GENIUS
Directors come up with such original ideas.?

A rage attacks my throat,
Threatening to howl scorched words at the screen,
But remembering I'm alone, and that would be weird.
I mutter to myself instead. But no,
The rage is determined to have its way.
Streams of images, brutalized bodies,
Dead babies, re-runs of televised war
Is a sick groundhog day each shit-soaked which I've been subjected -

Smoke, but no mirror.
Circus, but no bread.

I snap

The cast iron teapot,
The one I usually pompously pour from with my maestered
Like poetry, and think ourselves sophisticated, finds my hand.
The rage launches this piece of metal earth,
And shatters into a thousand shards.
The curtain that conceals, by revealing.

The tele is fucked.
I breath a sigh of satisfaction.
In the instant, I am taken... Again.