A Christic Revolution lyrics

I talk through a looking-glass; from a world of miracles
Syncin’ you like I could possibly know who it’s to:
“We live in an era—where nothing could matter to everyone
’cept sin and death; I mean death plus everyone’s issues”

Come on, come on
(What are the chances?)
Come on, come on
(I see you sensin’ it too)
Age of iPhone, age of AI
(It’s a world of slavery and war on YouTube)

It’s called an opportunity (oh!)
It’s called a chore (boo)
It’s called an understanding
Birth wasn’t a bore
Life’s trained you for pain (what?)
Life’s trained you for changеs (no it hasn’t)
I’m changin’ your diapers (oh!)
Baby, I been borin’ my drills into you (uh oh)
Babylon, you’re a guns’-girl galore

I talk from a looking-glass; through a lifе full of miracles
Synchronicities glide you through my seduction:
“We live in a world—with ‘too many voices!’, with ‘too many thinkers!’
With too many people; too much linguistic production”
Come on, come on
(What are the chances?)
Come on, come on
(I see you sensin’ it too)
Age of English, age of Google
It’s a world of frauds and scam artists (and you)

It’s called an opportunity (uh oh!)
It’s called a chore (boo—whore)
It’s called an understanding
Birth wasn’t a bore
Life’s trained you for pain (what?)
She’s trained you for changes (no She didn’t)
I been changin’ your diapers (oh!)
And baby God’s borin’ Her drills into you (oopsie-daisies)
Babylon, you’re a gun lover’s whore

Synchronicity (right time, right place)
Implies simulation (here atheists, eat mace)
Multiplyin’ my meanings by two
Put it more simply (right genius, right face)
Lose short-term stimulation (here atheists, pick race)
Y’all should teach philosophy in school

It’s called an opportunity (what what)
It’s called a chore (f*cking no)
It’s called an understanding
Life shalln’t be a bore (“I’m not bored!”)
Fiction’s trained you for pain (I don’t read)
Fiction’s trained you for changes (I don’t watch movies)
Christ’s changin’ your diapers
Chinaman’s borin’ his drills into you (Christ)
Babylon, you’re a Lone Ranger’s whore
God’s like a dice (go!)
She’s how it rolls (Christ)
God’s cold as ice (Coca-Cola)
Satan’s how you try to control (God)
(Who?) God’s like a dice (grow)
She’s who mice know (nice)
She’s how mice grow (cold as cola, Mitch)
Pepsi’s how God tries to control (bye)

Synchronicity
Add Lin’s stimulation
You’re applyin’ Christ’s meanings by two…