Tekst piosenki
I want a titanium knee already. Even now, there are mice who wear titanium helmets. Who knows what thoughts people their tiny brains. I bet they’re less thoughts than tweets
Last night I had a drag of a yoga instructor’s electric cigarette (mint cartridge). I looked even more stupid than when I smoke regular cigarettes. Meanwhile she tried via text to assuage her girlfriend, who was sitting outside a building somewhere crying and unable to move (no; „not motivated to move”). Another yoga instructor told me he had found stillness. And anyway, the fact that I drop this knife, and it vibrates, well that’s what our brains do, that’s thoughts, so maybe the knife has a primitive kind of consciousness. He kept dropping the knife on the lightly stained tablecloth over and over, with joyful materialism. I couldn’t look away. I told everyone who wasn’t on Facebook and/or Instagram to „grow up! GROW UP!” For it is not we who have domesticated the Internet; it is the Internet that has domesticated us, thank God. Speaking of what I want, I also want a Google microchip in my brain
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