Myopitopia

It's 6 a.m. as I stir my coffee And look out at the end of my street I see a pile of busted up microwaves bathed in orange light Shone like the throne for a single Sprite There's a torn up chair, and a dented dryer And a tableau of plastic cups A few years ago these were glories of the free world Fresh from birth on the global supply chain Their production, fed by destruction Conceived with infinity in mind It's a picture of the human race screaming No! No! In the face of entropy It's a picture of the human race screaming No! No! In the face of entropy That's how you build a That's how you build a That's how you build a myopitopia Myopitopia Myopitopia Myopitopia, 'topia Myop... ... Itopia