On the hyperreal superhighway
you cruise topless and uninhibited,
bottomless and unequivocal, brainless and unintentional. 
You see a little broken down house on the side of the mind
and thus you step into the existence of Insolence Smith,
he makes you a coffee
and talks to you about weather and the soul 
and when he dies quietly nobody notices 
because it makes no difference to his state, 
everybody loves a rebel, 
everybody loves to feel important, 
such is life, but we all know that's bullshit 
and we all know where we fit into the epiphany of 
the new christ 
who beatific and magnificent
and decrepit and self-destructive 
germinates the new order 
with a dictatorship of pleasantry 
and feeds us the germs of satisfaction 
and lets us feel in some way real. 
this is the hyperreal superhighway 
and this is your messiah 
and thine is the kingdom 
the power and the glory 
forever and ever, 
amen