Basic Song

You were born in a world without mystery
Every angle caught on tape
And every sound a man could make is now history
Turn away, pretend you’re not listening
To the Rubik’s cube of losers
To the commenters who choose the new hit machine
You want it warm and raw, you want it pure and true
You want the love that they used to feel
You want the ghost of AM radio broadcasting through you
RCA, to the tape machine
A similar distraction
From the days of satisfaction
And it’s too often forgotten this was something that our hero couldn’t get
Just a way to say that you’re sixteen
Melodies of adolescence
Fell out with the obsolescence of tambourines
You want to grab the hand
You want to turn it back
You want to listen to Paint It Black
You want cigarettes at 35 cents a pack
But that’s the basic song
You’ve heard it all along
The greatest hits of yesterday have all passed on
Transubstantiated, the lines redrawn
Nothing is forgotten, and nothing’s gone
The end and the beginning, the basic song
When you feel, the cacophony in the air
That’s unfiltered urban romance
That’s the constant modern parlance of software
Everyone has a symphony in their hair
But when they open their mouths
And the violins come out, it’s a nightmare
Filter out the noise, put your ear to the ground
It’s the love like they used to feel
It’s the sound of your spinal cord being rewound
But that’s the basic song
You’ve heard it all along
The greatest hits of yesterday have all passed on
Transubstantiated, the lines redrawn
Nothing is forgotten, and nothing’s gone
The end and the beginning, the basic song
The greatest hits of yesterday have all passed on
Transubstantiated, the lines redrawn
Nothing is forgotten, and nothing’s gone
The end and the beginning, the basic song
The basic song