what smada - century writer lyrics
staring through the same windowpanes of my gl-sses
typewriter of my mind sitting on the gr-ss is
it it if i fumble and stumble and write something for the m-sses
i won’t be able to sleep, won’t get the same look from my mattress
well i heard a nasty fact from brookyln
that sleep is the cousin of death
in that case i guess i have to be like walter finch
until my last breath
that last part was an insomniac reference if you didn’t know
i didn’t know either but wikipedia made me wiser, so
i’m getting smarter every day with my google goggles
i know nothing about everything, oh how my mind boggles
the burning of print so that we can squint at pixelated misprints
of how our ancestors never used to interact and smile
and liking something only occurs at the click of a b-tton
all this available “information”, i’m starting to feel like a starving glutton
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