Upgrade - Remedy Drive

We’re still sowing in the finite fields

We’re so content to live under a curse

We’re still fabricating paradise

With the thorns, with the flies and dirt

Hold out for the upgrade, man

Let go of your sinking sand

This bent world’s not the promised land

This feeble frame’s not meant to stand

This is just the flesh it’s just the blood

It’s really not, it’s not that tough

The bruised the fragile, cut up, scratched and scarred

It’s just the feeble — just the feeble stuff