Week 348 // A National Crisis of Sorts

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You’d better wake up
You’d better wake up soon
It’s a funny thing
That everyone needs to do
But they’d rather not move
From the spot they’re on
It’s a national crisis of sorts
You’d better wake up

And rushing to the window
Each and every afternoon
When the light is best for photographs

The helicopters see it all
And never do we mind
What have folks like us to hide?

You’d better not doubt
You’d better not doubt
What you were meant to do
But all we ever do is doubt
Did I get that right?
Did I ruin it?
It’s a natural question to ask
You’d better not doubt

Pushing through a crowded street
With ringing in your ears
Because the barrier is compromised

The helicopters see it all
And never do we mind
What have folks like us to hide?

Western civilization as a whole is pretty insecure these days. If the entire nervous lot of us were distilled down into a single person, that person would be a socially maladjusted teenager with a bad skin problem, anxious about possibly failing Geography, overcompensating by cracking loud jokes in the back of the classroom, and lying to his friends about his super hot girlfriend who they would definitely be able to meet except that she lives in Des Moines and only visits in the summer when they’re all away at tennis camp.

This song doesn’t touch on much of what I just described, but I think it is a fair set of fleeting impressions from the world as it exists now, full of bluster, lacking in self regard, and fairly disinterested in challenging conversation.


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