Lyrics

The Conspiracy and the Screen
The news is a song
that no one sings,
an echo rolling
through the cash-stained halls,
“Wake up,” it chimes,
with a wink and a nod,
while outside, the world
sticks to the script,
an assembly line of facts
rhymed in shaky tones,
polyester truths sewn
in a factory of minds.
“The fabric is frayed,”
a voice whispers low,
“find a seam to unravel,”
but the spool rolls tight.
“I know it happened,”
they yell through the glass,
“'cause I saw it on TV!”
as if sincerity lives
in pixels and noise,
a carnival ride spinning
between mild disbelief
and the bright lights of flair.
And I nod, recalling
that time the moonwalk
was performed on a stage
under hot studio lights.
Don’t mention the curtain,
this stage made of whisper—
each layer a veil,
crafted, rehearsed, and deftly pulled.
So we dive, take the plunge,
navigate the currents,
while the currents reshape
the boat we’re riding in,
instructions lost,
a paper map, a prop
with arrows pointing
to the truth we’ve forsaken.
Sometimes life feels like
the magician’s trick,
the sleight of hand is sharp
as a pie in the face,
and we laugh in the freeze-frame
of that ironic moment
when we learn all great events
are just party tricks in mirrors.