quinta-feira, 22 de novembro de 2012

Buy machine(petrarch)

My wallet is my heart
and my checkbook could sell my mean soul.
Money´s my blood and I´m a golden buy machine.
My brains a chip in a credit card.
 
What´ll I do when I´ve spent everything?
When my existance is in red peril?
I guess I´ll just sell myself afterall.
Because I´m a top of the line buy machine.
 
Life´s purpose has me calmly brainwashed.
My sole reason for living can be summed up in a purchase.
Advertising flickers still in dreams in deep sleep.
 
So I want to know what everything costs.
Line up before the sales entering as the first,
What lonely customers we are inherently cheap.

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