(1985–2003)

(intro)
A classroom in Connecticut, 1985—
Necks craned, knees crossed, eyes wide.
The PBS logo fades…
A tiger sells sugar in a bowl of lies.
No one knows what’s coming.
No one knows the wires are humming.

(verse 1)
In the lab outside Chicago, ’92,
They chase the dragon of flavor through
salt-sugar-fat—just the right kiss—
the “bliss point,” baby, neurochemical bliss.
Not full, not fed, just hooked instead—
This is for your toddler. This is for your head.
Internal memos: “We know what this does.”
Still they press the button. Just because.

(chorus)
Welcome to the Bliss Point Republic
Don’t worry, child—it’s science on the label.
We build your hunger in a fable.
Welcome to the Bliss Point Republic
Engineered delight in every bite—
Just one more, you’ll feel all right.

(verse 2)
Seattle, 2003:
Pediatrician’s got a new disease.
“Can’t sit still, can’t focus, gets mad…”
Promotional pamphlets stacked like ads.
But in the drawer, truth in dust—
Food dye flashing like a neon trust.
Hyperactive or perfectly sane
in a hypermarketed, ultra-processed brain?

(chorus)
Welcome to the Bliss Point Republic
Can’t focus, can’t breathe, can’t sleep, can’t play—
Just take this pill and go away.
Welcome to the Bliss Point Republic
It’s not the system, it’s your kid—
We fixed it all. We always did.

(outro)
Cue the bell. Pack the bags.
Don’t ask questions. Fill the flags.
Raise a toast to the ones who feed—
on appetites they plant like seed.