I sit here on my couch,
watching my television.
Absorbing information faster than any other generation,
but it's all useless, pointless rot,
just to fill my brain.
To keep me compliant, to keep me from thinking,
Cause while I lay there sleeping,
My brothers and sisters are mourning, and dying, and weeping.
I've never had to worry if my baby will come home,
if the father of my children is still alive...
When he only went to the store for milk.
I don't ask myself how to get through every day,
Just barley holding onto what little space I own.
I don't know your pain, I don't know your struggles,
I only know of it, but isn't that enough?
Who says this isn't my fight?
Because as long as I refuse to think,
refuse to realize how much it hurts,
refuse to admit that there's a war right here in my own street...
Then I am complacent.
And in my complacency,
I say "Okay."
If all I'm thinking about is who's wearing what,
and the president's heartburn,
absorbing words from a puppet on the screen...