Текст песни Surface Paradise, Part 13 - ROOT!

It's not soul
It's not soul

It's not soul
It's solipsism

It's not soul
It's not soul

It's not soul
It's solipsism

I was minding my business
In the shopping centre, Surface Paradise
The coercion capital
When I spotted a crowd
Buzzing round a catwalk
It was a model search as far as I could tell
The stage was full of pretty little ingénues
With stage mums hissing encouragement
As they tottered back and forth on cantilever shoes
Barely clothed, barely sentient
The announcer said, "Welcome girls, welcome mums
Chanel presents, 'Find a Journaliste'
One lucky girl has the chance to become
A war correspondent in the middle east

Mums and dads
Do you hear what I say?
In this surface paradise

Mums and dads
Do you hear what I say?
In this surface paradise

Yeah, well, I tried to protest but was ineffectual
I turned to a judge, I said
"I hate to quibble
But arent journalists meant to be credible, bespectacled intelectuals?
Where's your James Dibble?
Where's your James Dibble?"
She said, "We're selling Sex and the City out in the suburbs
For the aspiration generation to forget their lowly station
Where the battlers buy the Beamers and mamas drive the Hummers
We put product placement in conversation
And anyway, what kind of random are you?
Everybody knows you are what you buy
As if news is about news
Didn't you know the truth has been privatised?"

Mums and dads
Do you hear what I say?
In this surface paradise

Mums and dads
Do you hear what I say?
In this surface paradise

Do you let the squeaky wheel get the oil?
Do you say perception is reality?
Do you suffer a fool if she's a pretty girl?
Do you promote youth over ability?
Do you swap substance for substances?
Do you plumb the depths of your shallowness?
Do you think this whole thing is tall poppy syndrome?
Then step inside, enjoy the ride
You'll feel right at home