Digital Sands - Lamb Of God

A thousand Romes are set aflame

A thousand Neros sing their own refrains

Narcissus improved & enhanced

He gloats while basking in his arrogance

Conceit and pride are going viral

A globe that’s reached its critical mass

A pixilated downward spiral

Fixated on the looking glass

An endless temple, a shrine to your vanity

To worship yourself in the cult of me (in the cult of me)

Just squeaking wheels in a fuck machine

High resolution lies fill the screen

The lowest common dominator

Propaganda pitched by petty dictator

An endless temple, a shrine to your vanity

To worship yourself in the cult of me (in the cult of me)

You worship yourself, in the cult of me

So what’s the measure of a man

(We are the end)

Lost in shifting digital sands?

(We are the end)

And what’s the standard supposed to be

(We are the end)

When nothing is as it seems?

We are the end

You’ve trapped yourself inside this temple

Enraptured by your vanity

A sacrifice to your own image

A prisoner of the cult of me