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lirik lagu photosynthesis – marathon

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most everybody can agree on what’s s-xy.
i’ve often liked to think i was above such consensus.
but with the doors locked and my drawers dropped,
i’m no different ’cause these pictures have been training me.
mission: worship counterfeit bodies. is this a shakedown?
no, no this ain’t how i usually find myself when i have a revelation.
so here’s the breakdown: a total fakeout jumping off the page.
synthesized, sanitized, glamorized. surprise, surprise.
black bile expulsion: our hopes for beauty make an exit and get flushed.
three courses of self-confidence deported daily from the throat with a middle finger thrust.
we’re so sick. we have ingested a parasitic tour guide.
i clearly have misplaced my trust.
an industry built on the backs of insecurity, airbrushing out the human honesty.
they’ve defined “s-xy” so narrowly.
i’m getting tunnel vision and i’m terrified that my willing complicity means that
i will only desire what they have planned for me.
i’m so scared. i’m so scared. i’m so scared.
i’m so scared, somebody please shake me.
screw this. i’m posting signs: “no hunting and no tresp-ssing.”
these dealers pushing rank moonshine can get the h-ll out of my pants and get the f-ck out of my mind.
i’m so sick. i have been sucked in but i’m hacking my way out with this simple ambition:
all i want is to be free of judging everyone against a standard that doesn’t even look human, now is that too much to ask?

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