Uploaded on Sep 25, 2009
a faulty chromosome - scoffers vs. beasts
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It's as though I woke up from a 22-year dream and screamed "Aaahh! I'm not prepared for this! There is so much work to do to fix this mess!"
We were dragged to school at a very young age and taught to trust, respect, even fear adults. We are presented with a skewed abridged version of reality, told that many things are none of our business, or that we are too young to understand, and what we must do in order to succeed is to unquestioningly remain on the conveyer belt, keeping hands inside at all times, and never questioning our instructors. Upon being dumped out 18 or so years later, what we find is that those who got angry at us for asking questions did so because their egos were embarrassed of being imperfect, and that all these safeguards had been put in place so that the structure would not be disturbed. But nearly everything great comes from pushing for answers. Every scientific advancement occurs only through someone saying "you know, I think I can figure out a way to do this better," much to the displeasure of every one of their highly offended teachers who scold them because they would rather feel powerful than seek the truth.
This made me feel very isolated as a child because -- although I wasn't the only one who hated school -- I couldn't find anyone who would believe what I felt in my gut all along: what passes for education actually kills creativity, and teaching with the feeling that you know everything is just a sad excuse to feel powerful in an otherwise powerless world. Perhaps some of my disruptive actions did not serve my cause well, but frustration overwhelms good judgment most of the time, and because we are not taught proper coping mechanisms for stress, what else could I have done?
So now I am older, and I see that most people are jaded and have given up trying to do what they know is right out of exhaustion or fear, so I struggle to try to find a coherent way to motivate people, to beg for their help, to instill a sense of hope.
Lyrics
This post-adolescent atrophy
has been nothing short of a catastrophe
(What? No, that's not me overexaggerating!).
We're senescing incessantly, wrestling with words,
restless, stressed, and depressed always questioning our worth,
worrying we might be exacerbating things (No no! There's already too much of that!).
Well hey, Mike, just remember that things weren't that much better in sweatpants at seven!
I think we've just aggrandized and overstated the childhood's we kind of hated
since how we translate heaven gives us nowhere nice to hide.
sad that seditious scoffers mostly mutate into pernicious beasts
(beasts at the very least)
See, our dads never spoke of those head-shaped holes
they just spackled them back up in their bathroom robes
(and that was all done, son, to preserve your youth) ... everyday we were
duped by doses from docents that celled us like Proctor&Gamble cavia porcellus
think I'd have just preferred the truth (why is that always so hard?)
now we feel footsore, abhorred and deflated.
there's scant help, but hey, we made it, so now we must contrive!
So please, Matt, you've gotta believe me, it's the antonym of easy
but if we don't keep striving, well, then why are we alive?
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