| Are we mere space dust drifting in time to nowhere and destruction?
|
| The corruption seeps to the purest light and that is existence
|
| Above it all burns the stars buried in the stomach of our land
|
| Just one more drifting chip of consciousness stumbling against static waves is
|
| it the machine keeping us down?
|
| Plugged in expecting to peak
|
| Above it all burns the stars buried in the stomach of our land
|
| Nothing but dirt and old bones held together by dust
|
| To crack the land and the old backbone clears the mind of stone
|
| A cold smear of last night’s smoke the drowsing lot
|
| Reeled in on its silver thread red dust a smell like maturing rust
|
| Emptying days and the driving mantle gloom
|
| Last night’s smoke the drowsing lot
|
| Just plugged in expecting to peak buried by dirt and old bones
|
| Are we mere space dust drifting in time to nowhere and destruction?
|
| The corruption, it seeps to the purest light and that is existence
|
| Above it all burns the stars buried in the stomach of our land
|
| Mammalian spreads mute into an extended nervous system
|
| A dense mass of consciousness the blood of our air
|
| There are times when we are nowhere
|
| Falling apart it seems
|
| There are times when we are nowhere
|
| Falling apart at the seams
|
| Falling apart it seems
|
| Falling apart at the seams
|
| Falling it seems
|
| Apart |