Get With The Times (Scott Thorough Remix)

(Okay... {clears throat}

Ya hear that?)

That's the hand of time

Opportunity knockin'

The front door

It's the god of war

The five fingers of death

The hand that feeds

This altered beast

Says his piece.

From feast to famine, the hunger is honest to God

Pray for your fake phony-facades

Devoted to see the empire fall

Eyes glued, watch the megabytes crawl

Pry to get loose, just try to get through

Out of his skin,"Very nice to meet you"

Astonishing tales, days unfurl

Still lost in the ways of the world.

You took a shot, all water, I got glasses

What goes up, must come crashing

Let's all go play suicide friends

Descendin', straight off the deep end

The cat's outta the Louis-Vuitton

Your hope is not a plan, no magic wand

Home, stoned, paranoid, alone-

Let freedom ring, they done tapped the telephone.

Hello? (Hello)... Not you again-

The clock strikes twelve, the magic ends

You ain't psychic; You're just a pessimist

Calculations... sheer coincidence

Hey world, the coordinates are off

You brain at work, turns Microsoft

Healthy body, your healthy mind

I'm 0-2, bottom of the nine

Last licks, got nothin' but wounds

You're crushed, killed, destroyed, now consumed

You are what you eat, some filthy animals

Medium-rare, ya bloody cannibals

What a hoot, they taste just like chicken

The hands full of grease; the plot thickens

Ya hear that? That's the moment slippin'

History repeats, brand-new shipment.

(Now, now, now, now, now, now, now, now, now)

Now, irony strikes, variables

Champagne, caviar, fake Picassos

Joke's on us, back to the disco

Same devil, Pam-moonlight, Dosie-doe

Do the hustle, see what we can slang

Insecurites make me wanna prove things

Do duds to ease my condition

Sleeve-stitched with the latest contradictions

Don't be scared, it's just popular jargon

Mismatched in God's little Garden

Out the rabbit hole, end of the line

There is nothing real-get with the times.