Digital Sands

A thousand Romes are set aflame
A thousand Neros sing their own refrains
Narcissus improved & enhanced
He gloats while basking in his arrogance
Conceit and pride are going viral
A globe that’s reached its 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 dictator
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