Story Behind the Song
Jason English--Bass, vocals; Brian Miller--guitar, vocals; Greg Shows--vocals; Chris Smith--drums
Produced by Squelch's
Lyrics
Mechanical man sitting in the corner is diabolically intelligent
Ever vigilant, he doesn’t need a lunch, you cannot poison him because he has no lungs.
Magritte, Dali, Seurat, Van Gogh are under his control
He turns the lights up in his studio.. and he primes
White up to the cracks
A blank canvas for a critical mass
You won't appreciate my art until you die
It's a new perspective of invective that includes you
I guarantee that it will mystify you
So when the line of socialites file in
"Let's begin" he says
as he greets them with some moet and a grin
Staring slackjawed at the nothingness
A pale reflection of their meaningless existence
Made a statement so astounding
That their approval was resounding
and they cried:
It’s so minimal
White up to the cracks in the ceiling
It’s so minimal
A total absence of human feeling
Stick around or you’ll miss the best part
It's not so maudlin as post-modern
But I guess you’d still call it interactive art
The hoi polloi and the status minions
My art drone manifesto calls for your subscription
So I'll wait until you get into the right position
Kill the lights
Load the clip
and turn off the safety
It’s so visceral
Red up to the cracks in the ceiling
It’s so visceral
This saturation is more than a feeling
Intruder Alert, intruder alert
Stop the humanoid, stop the humanoid
Intruder Alert, intruder alert
Stop the humanoid, stop the humanoid
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