Basic Cable Aesop Rock

Television, all hail grand pixelated god of
Fantasy, murder scape bent perspective
Fuck a sore channel changed digit
I sit with a nasty network intravenous plan
With a stable diet of my cable pirate
Yo, the doctor is in, the doctor is on
Born the bastard son of static radiance cloned to welcome in every home
Lead a blue screen, bruised dream canopy
Victim of the cursed nursed Technicolor drunk support team
Ooh, I love all advertisements
Though accused by robot news casters who capture and pollute
Spoon fed hazardous fog to joy luck catholic squad
Please take me, please calm me, please make me a zombie
Please I want to donate my brain to the monstrous Panasonic profit
Now, twenty first century plagued
Dispersed to wide eyed glamour addict patients
Telecast patrons
Blue be the propaganda banners, well, sure I'll be a Marine
With a clean sword and blue uniform, it only takes a dollar and a dream
And I abide great idiot box power supply, fuzz vapor
Black out of New York, hey honey, get the generator
I'm in a doom, doom generation, pacin', ancient electric secret
Never sleepin' to miss the AM oasis
My name is a wired heart, sloppy obligation
Turn my stilt into my guilt and have a chatter box blame frame adjacent station
Make reality scrambled and suck the life out of a hidden vandal
And loving every minute of the gimmick, change the channel