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.