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lyrics

“Perfection” is our formaldehyde – “staying young” our denial of mortality: preserving image as static currency.
Fetishisation of youth/”beauty” is no fluke, but a Fantasy Trap: the reflexive attempt of a foredoomed system to delay its collapse.

Ensnared, we wallow in imagined stasis:
Obsessed with preserving life, we forget to ever live it,
Perfectly functional objects for a purely functional world.

Flesh withers inside a candy casing.
Ignored time disappears in the blink of an eye.

Having invested all in the superficial, there is no energy left for the internal –image becomes our only purpose.

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