Some Random Thoughts About A Random Song

Steve’s comments on Gill’s DNA post about “I don’t particularly relish the thought of willingly dropping everything I am into the mail and sending it off to a corporation so they can do lord knows what with it.” reminded me of this song, which I have thought about putting up here since Barb showed it to me nearly 2 years ago. I wanted to mention it because wow is it ever kind of freaky in lyrics and music, and it’s amazing how it’s possible to find different meanings for things that aren’t intended by the author if you really want to, or at least it’s possible for me. Maybe I’m just a highly suggestible human being.

When Barb sent it to me, I thought I remember her saying “The person who wrote this wrote it because she really hates her job.” So I listened to it with that in mind, even though the title clearly said it was about Acsiom, the marketing database. I will blame the fact that I was kind of smacked with a wicked cold for not noticing the obvious. But even so, I started to think about how somebody who is frustrated with their job might see a company’s wish to understand their employees better as some weird attempt to get inside their heads to try and get them to willingly give the employer more of their time and energy. And somehow, my mind could make sense of that too. When I figured it out, the song made a lot more sense without so much effort. Why does my mind try to make things more complicated than they need to be? Anyway, have a song.

Somebody hears you. you know that. you know that.
Somebody hears you. you know that inside.
Someone is learning the colors of all your moods, to
(say just the right thing and) show that you’re understood.
Here you’re known.

Leave your life open. you don’t have. you don’t have.
Leave your life open. you don’t have to hide.
Someone is gathering every crumb you drop, these
(mindless decisions and) moments you long forgot.
Keep them all.

Let our formulas find your soul.
We’ll divine your artesian source (in your mind),
Marshal feed and force (our machines will)
To design you a perfect love—
Or (better still) a perfect lust.
O how glorious, glorious: a brand new need is born.

Now we possess you. you’ll own that. you’ll own that.
Now we possess you. you’ll own that in time.
Now we will build you an endlessly upward world,
(reach in your pocket) embrace you for all you’re worth.

Is that wrong?
Isn’t this what you want?

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