[Verse 1]
Plastic saints on the magazine
Selling guilt in designer jeans
Talk-show tears on a Tuesday screen
Fake pain
Fake smile
Real green
Channel-surfing through the same three lies
Laugh-track glued to the alibis
They kiss the ring on the ad machine
Chew you up for the ratings scheme
[Chorus]
Place your head in the guillotine
Cut my head from your little dream
I won’t clap on command
I won’t sing on your screen
Stepping up to the guillotine
All these smiles feel cheap and mean
Spit it out
Spit it out
Tear the wrapper at the seam (hey!)
[Verse 2]
Perfect teeth
Perfect talking points
Blood on the floor in the House of Noise
Red tie
Blue tie
Same old voice
Pick your puppet
They pick your choice
Scroll
Scroll
Hit your dopamine
Thumbs go numb
But you still lean in
They sell the fear like a new vaccine
Fear of thought
Fear of being seen
[Chorus) Step up to. The guillotine
Cut my head from your little dream
I won’t clap on command
I won’t die on your meme
Cut off clean from the guillotine
All your gods in a glowing screen
Spit it out
Spit it out
Tear the wrapper at the seam (yeah!)
[Bridge]
Soft voice says
“Just relax”
While they slip their hands in the tax
Soft voice says
“It’s all fine”
While they draw the red
Blue line
(are you fine? are you fine?)
[Chorus]
Ste up to the guillotine
Cut my head from your little dream
I won’t dance for the crowd or the crooked regime
No escape from the guillotine
Wake me up from this plastic scene
Spit it out
Spit it out
Tear the wrapper at the seam
[Outro]
Spit it out
Spit it out
Bubblegum
Guillotine (yeah)
