Pretty girl on the mountain,
caught somewhere 'tween heaven and hell,
you have no idea
where you are.
We can watch and point
and laugh and curse
knowing we will never reach that high,
but you're on every station
all across the nation,
psychobabble coursing from your lips.
I want to turn you off because you turn me on
and leave me running in the cold,
but every time I try I feel the hand of death.
Pretty girl on the mountain,
you ride the airwaves through the sky
and course into our collective veins,
careless to the cries in pleasures and pains.
I want to drop the remote, unplug the computer, lose the cell, hide the keys, mute the volume, turn off the lights, but I cant,
oh I knew I never could.
So I'll sit in mindless servitude to you
brains leaking to the floor along with self determination.
Staring at the pixels that make you that pretty girl on the mountain of consumerism.
