You create a hell for the ones to buy your illusion

You design a spell that you cast upon the forsaken

Hortative

You engender temptation

Re-create

Invent the latest sensation

Procreate

Produce the perfect delusion

Your god is digital

You erase the deviations

Adding beauty to the frail

Dreams contrived upon a drawing-table set the pace of the vain

Trust the vagaries of fashion

Do what all the others do

Total loss of independence

You've always wished you someone else

You behold your victims insane

Opinions cast aside

And when they try to change

And try to find their native demeanor

They are frozen out, precluded from the coven from the mass of fools

There's a message and receivers who will see it as a rule

There's an image made to covet

Global mass-manipulation complete

High-technology will cover all the errors in the way

Can't you see that you deflower and deform the generations to come

I will have to confess

The music you listen to now is pretty damn far from the truth

In league with machines

That help me to play all the harmonies born in my head