| Just on the down low
|
| I’m feeling pretty low
|
| Some days I feel fine
|
| Others, I don’t know
|
| I got a sensory road block
|
| I’m in a binary mind lock
|
| So I’m dancing in lockstep
|
| To music that I can’t hear, yeah
|
| Failing farmer, toxic crop
|
| Two white hearts to shake shit up
|
| Pay someone to taste, to smell and punch through the dry wall inside my skull
|
| Interior people
|
| A lens flare in my subconscious
|
| The gap of death
|
| I no longer fear
|
| The Interior people
|
| I keep thinking someone
|
| Is standing beside me
|
| But when I turn to grab them
|
| They jump back inside of me
|
| They tell me to do things
|
| And so does the radio
|
| And learn from the satellite
|
| That orbits my shadow, yeah
|
| Instigate the paradigm
|
| Play the game, and drink the wine
|
| Communicate with the afterglow that radiates between the wall
|
| Failing farmer, toxic crop
|
| Two white hearts to shake shit up
|
| Pay someone to taste, to smell and punch through the dry wall inside my skull
|
| Interior people
|
| A lens flare in my subconscious
|
| The gap of death
|
| I no longer fear
|
| The Interior people
|
| Interior people
|
| A lens flare in my subconscious
|
| The gap of death
|
| I no longer fear
|
| The Interior people |