Arcade Blues

Lonely consolations from the TV screen and for the things unseen
Pixelled consolations don’t know what they bring but it’s not empathy
Dream from palpitations your ideas fade, they begin to stray
But you can always make it up along the way from what you meant to say
Pointless excitation from the cluttered sounds where the voices drown
Morbid fascination insulates your brain, it becomes unwound
If only this were real you’d see it clear as day, not some other way
Terrible electric daydreams oozing through the ground, you are never found
Take me from this arcade blues
I don’t know what to do, I don’t know what to do
Take these hands, let me loose
Something else to do, find something else to do