Why You Readin'?

spoken

Waffle House waitress asked: Why you readin'?

Not what, ...but why?...

...i realize we have lost at civilization.

Drop: Dark Jazz

Out of everybody who just wants to be fed.

Just be easy, shallow, pre-digested.

We mistake popularity for actual talent now.

A million followers buys a new house, somehow.

None desire to be good at anything that matters.

Just fame for nothing, huff vapid cultures.

Entertainment's the opiate, we're complicit junkies.

Scrolling past substance, for algorithmic pleasantry.

You don't want art, you want con-tent that confirms.

What you already think, or your smooth brain squirms.

We chose to click, every view

With Wallet votes, and screen time too.

We blame supply, for our demand,

Eight billion products, heads in the sand.

You can't be an artist as a product.

Don't have opinions if you wanna sell an ad.

You're the con-tent and the consumer.

an algorithmic malignant tumor.

Everybody's got a brand now,

I don't care what you think.

Personal mission statements,

monetize my every need.

The hustle is the goal,

to sell-out is the dream.

It used to be shameful, but it's all that I can think.

Nobody wants to hear you, or what you have to say.

They just wait their turn to speak,

and go on with their day.

Into a discourse, a thread,

a take that gets engagement.

While you had a thought,

they just wanted entertainment.

Scream "support real artists!" in a Marvel shirt.

Draw Captain america, go change the world.

Stream some focus-grouped pop,

you're a connoisseur au-teur.

I admit I might be dumb.

Like I would rather have fun.

Or maybe just bitch,

Than actually give a shit.

I might bounce stupid opinions,

In unwarranted conversations,

To assure myself I'm right.

I seem to need the luxury,

That everyone agree with me,

Or they're just fuckin' crazy,

So I can sleep at night.

Breakdown

Eight billion products scream in the same void.

I'm the only one who's not been destroyed.

By the production line, algorithm feed of need.

No I'm not manufactured, I'm a special little me...

Finale

We had the warning, we just didn't care.

Easier to scroll than to think, to be aware.

Nobody's changing shit, we're too far gone.

Just products selling products, Et cetera and so on.

Outro - spoken/minimal

Why you readin'? ...huh ....huh?

End

end