We Are The Physics все тексты (слова) песен, переводы, видео, клипы

I'm now in the background of more photos than I'm in actual photos of myself
Tagged, tagged and assorted, a peripheral face
Everyone's a camera, must deliver visual evidence
A good time was clearly had by all
Incidentally, you're accidentally missing an event trying to capture a static version of it

You don't like me much, so let's keep in touch
I don't like you much, so we'll keep in touch

And so now we're wrestling with the body politic
It will spit and salivate on culture
It dictates and lactates
Then we grow up handcuffed and bound to the teat
I think if we chop off the head it grows back
Bigger than before, bigger than before
And we're stuck, stuck
We're stuck sucking

There is a shift in pace with new technologies
And I still underestimate the change of disease
Technology’s now the opiate of the masses
And even I am posthuman now that I require glasses
And I’m wondering when it was that I became complex
And when small packets of software started having sex
It takes a little, it takes a lot
It takes a little, it takes a lot

We compare knees under gaps in bathroom stalls
A cubicle to box in our shared control
I got a manicure just for you
We rely on each other - a sister, a brother

We keep covering, keep on covering
We keep covering and keep recovering

10 PRINT "VENTILATOR"
20 PRINT "INCUBATOR"
30 PRINT "MONITOR"
40 GOTO 10
You're symbiotic in the womb
Can't disconnect maternal cords
Autonomy's impossible
But you belong to me

I waste film on you, filming you frame by frame
In nights in cold with colds we sniff to keep the mucus
Filming me filming you (a-ha!)
It cements the closeness that we feel apart
Without a compass, our north becomes repellant
Filming me filming you

The lens steams up - sexism into film

In our close, we skint our knees on biscuits
On biscuits
Quick sticks storm past and drop us uneaten Kit-Kats
And the sunken skulls under their caps groan
"Here you go, son, here's some sweeties"

Junk, junk, junk, junk, junk

All my sex takes place without a face
And alternates between lower and upper case
Mis-spelled between asterisks and dashes
Emoting sweats to scenario clashes
All the keys make less than three

I love my sex, it takes place without a face
The little skills that quicken the pace

Networking everywhere
Not working anywhere
Networking

The route won't seem suspicious
Operated by machinery we all get very lazy
I despise the scenery
This route won't raise suspicions

She's origami, folded sheets into pretty little shapes
A picture cut off at the feet reducing chances of escape
She's hanging over me, this claw persistent curl
We could only stare and point as she started to unfurl
You and me, well, we're the same
Nothing ever goes to plan
You and me, well, we're the same
Nothing goes to plan

Overhead's a tube showing off my lines
And I'm weighting down a chair, reading the signs
Horizontal blinds just dilute in bits
So you paint your own picture on metallic slits

As they walk around behind them, I will always remember
That their shapes looked hollow and I'll always remember
Although I have to tell myself to always remember