You create a hell for the ones to buy your illusion  You design a spell that you cast upon the forsaken  Hortative  You engender temptation  Re-create  Invent the latest sensation  Procreate  Produce the perfect delusion  Your god is digital  You erase the deviations  Adding beauty to the frail  Dreams contrived upon a drawing-table set the pace of the vain  Trust the vagaries of fashion  Do what all the others do  Total loss of independence  You've always wished you someone else  You behold your victims insane  Opinions cast aside  And when they try to change  And try to find their native demeanor  They are frozen out, precluded from the coven from the mass of fools  There's a message and receivers who will see it as a rule  There's an image made to covet  Global mass-manipulation complete  High-technology will cover all the errors in the way  Can't you see that you deflower and deform the generations to come  I will have to confess  The music you listen to now is pretty damn far from the truth  In league with machines  That help me to play all the harmonies born in my head