You're a walking billboard and the companies are mad, they'll kill you where you stand if they see you acting sad, so go out there and fuck boy and tell em all why, keep them hanging on a long thread, stretching to the sky, there is nothing left boy there's no one left to do, but when the executives can watch you they'll keep you in the mood, a nice big baby bottle, horny goat weed to the brim, they'll let you lay with anyone as long as they're let in, they'll watch you while you fuck boy they'll spy you as you sleep, the condom drapes your mind boy your seman they will keep, the microscopic secrets for conglomorates to know, they'll take you down to nowhere they'll let you stage a show, and no one there will matter and no one there will see, and no one will grow older and no one will be me, and no one there will listen and come to understand, new ways of interaction that aren't quite so bland, but the day will soon come when no one will want to eat, he'll yearn for that doritos bag the companies sell cheap, and he'll start laying bricks down to build a brand new home, no wilderness around for no wild things to roam, just a little house on a dark dead pavement hill, but no one will be pleased and he hopes that grow he will, in some strange way that matters in some strange way that's good, so someone can adopt him and find out how he should FEEL!