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

2005 - David Zach

Behind the Song:
"I wrote this song on the eve of my 25th birthday realizing that I'm 1/4 of a century old. This was the first of any that embodied the thematic emphasis of this album. I feel that we're mistaking the pilgrimage for the destination, the shadow for the substance, the temporary decor for the permanent. Settling for the half alive instead of the glorified. Content w/ the broken, beat up, worn out, burned out, hollow existence while we're standing on the edge of a new creation. We're building our own counterfeit immortality here on a fallen cursed planet. We're fabricating our own pseudo paradise out of plastic, fiberglass, metal, wood, picket fences, electronics, suburban dreams, American accomplishments, industry, machinery, leisure, comfort and religion. But this flesh and blood can't inherit the kingdom. It's too weak, flimsy, fragile - it lacks substance. It's just the feeble stuff. This skin and bones lacks the capacity for truly enjoying the infinite life. When the time comes I want the capacity, I want the ability. So what I'm hoping for during my lifetime is to become capacitated or upgraded if you will." - David Zach (Remedy Drive)