Текст пісні
What does it matter how one person responds
To a plague that doesn't even notice them?
How is anybody supposed to keep giving a shit about
A world that is so hopelessly devoted to sickness?
This feeling, the grief, the anger, at how senseless this
Is, and how little we can really do to stop the world
Around us from falling apart, I think that's the plague
The dead rats in the back of our minds that we try to ignore day in
And day out, distracting ourselves with frivolous bullshit, or
Numbing ourselves with blind faith or
Optimism until we just can't anymore
It's the same sickness that compels some people to refuse to
Wear a mask, demanding freedom not from disease, but from having
To fight it anymore, having to worry about what happens to a
World that so obviously does not worry about what happens to us
And it's the same sickness that drives desperate humans towards
Fascism, or capitalism, any bullshit ideology that promises to
Make them feel like the main character, make them feel powerful
Again, as if we could escape our own smallness if we just killed
Enough of the scapegoats, dominated enough of our fellow inmates
But of course, there is no escaping
Like the people in Oran, we are stuck here, trapped between
Our egos and our insignificance, forced to figure out what
We want to do with ourselves while we wait to see if the
Next mindless virus will be the one that finally gets us
But this is why we cling so hard to hopefulness or avoidance
Because without them, all we're really left with is despair
It's not just the death of ego, it's the death of meaning
Because if I really am this powerless, if nothing I do will be
Enough to stop a stupid plague, then what the fuck am I doing here?