(Chorus)
The walls are made of pixels,
the ground with grids.


the sky's made with zero's and ones,
things sound 8-bit.


The world is digital,
the water looks like piss.


Should we call it quits
because this is it?

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It might feel real for now
but please hear me out.

And don't try to doubt
the words I'm spittin' out.


The way it is, is not the way it looks.
The way it feels, is not the way it sounds.


Your world, is one of a kind.
Way out in the middle of nowhere.


But your world, is so blind.
quite possibly running out of time.
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(Chorus)