[Verse 1]

Let me liberate us from Instagram, I’m Yaldabaoth

The dregs of human hope dam up behind touchscreens

Sell everything and leave before anything hits the fan

Contrariety within the frame is just weak sauce

My advice for me: Move into flesh, move sprightly

Tap on a shoulder, swipe a nose quietly

Step on actual toes as your mates pour into the void and pixelate violently

Yeah, there’s no need to shout

Day of the Dead whеn they seed the sprouts

Cobra clutch your gripes quitе heavily

Blue Thunder Bomb; twirl your words recklessly

Perspicacity dropkicks: I’m dead

I’ll be touching myself in the shower

Ayy, Google the most -- fuck that

Our heroes been playing us, scripting it like we don’t know what’s a trope

Squeezing their orthodox narratives out of our fetish for deifying hope

Throwing my phone in the Thames for the third, hoping it drowns and I don’t

Pics or you do not exist in this hellhole

Praying that everyone block me, delete me, unclog all my shit from their cellphones

Used to go breakfast on Sundays with people who weren’t really there at the table

Who then would complain about what they deserve and how they do not like to be labelled

Why would I want to go back to the fucking world?

[Chorus]

Why'd I go back?

Why'd I go back?

Why'd I go back to the fucking world?