digital sands

Lamb Of God

A thousand Romes are set aflame
A thousand Neros sing their own refrains
Narcissus improved & enhanced
He gloats while backing in his arrogance
Conceit & pride are going viral
A globe that's reached it's 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 dicatators.

So what's the measure of a man
Lost in shifting digital sands?
And what's the standard supposed to be
When nothing is as it seems?
You've trapped yourself inside this temple
Enraptured by your vanity
A sacrifice to your own image
A prisoner of the cult of me.