Digital Sand

A thousand Romes are set aflame

A thousand Neros sing their own refrains

Narcissus improved & enhanced

He gloats while backing in his arrogance

Conceit & pride are going viral

A globe that's reached it's critical mass

A pixilated downward spiral

Fixated on the looking glass



An endless temple, a shrine to your vanity 

To worship yourself in the cult of me (in the cult of me)



Just squeaking wheels in a fuck machine

High resolution lies fill the screen 

The lowest common dominator

Propaganda pitched by petty 



An endless temple, a shrine to your vanity 

To worship yourself in the cult of me (in the cult of me)

You worship yourself, in the cult of me



So what's the measure of a man

(We are the end)

Lost in shifting digital sands?

(We are the end)

And what's the standard supposed to be

(We are the end)

When nothing is as it seems?

We are the end



You've trapped yourself inside this temple

Enraptured by your vanity 

A sacrifice to your own image 

A prisoner of the cult of me.