| Theres a form in the path, bloated seed that you cast
|
| It distracts as it breathes, from the cracks that it leaves
|
| Gorgon screens, time congeals round the mind
|
| Till I’m sealed, like a fly trapped in grease
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| Losing limbs, a metaphore for your land locked dreams
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| A cross hung, in dead air
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| Your gelatinous words will not penetrate there
|
| Your consent is just a fiction manufactured to the letter
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| Protected from yourself by someone who knows better
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| Fate keepers, in constipated linear structures
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| Each puppet works a puppet, think you can ever stop it?
|
| Crystalised my mouth dries, the gap yawns to the size
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| Of impossible loss and I’m fully transported and
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| Standing at the ice hacking at the surface
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| Forms loom beneath it a well that holds a timeless secret
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| I won’t sit silent by
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| Don’t you secretly sigh for
|
| A way to bridge the dark and endless spaces
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| The void left by apathy and sucking need?
|
| If each atom touches to every other
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| I’ll generate send the wave riding out
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| I am not buying; |
| you are trying my patience
|
| Invest my mind in a sounder kind of gold
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| The yolk nourishing, here within lies a stronger hold
|
| Bolder words unfolding a cooler, older, absurder version
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| I won’t be casting any worthless aspersions
|
| You took my name and number from a gift list
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| Insist this is the cheapest, latest
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| Fortunes are attached, no risks asterisked
|
| I am a seed carried high across the sky of infinite life
|
| If I get stripped of my wings
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| I will be dropping headlong at a world so gone
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| Sponsored by, fixed the score
|
| Blame who induced, introduced this meglomanic war
|
| No cure-all preparation for a fundamental human flaw
|
| And we still want more
|
| A million gobs, all teeth, grief and screaming
|
| Faceless tantrum, repressed fury becomes
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| Dead and doldrum
|
| I cannot centre; |
| I’m hell-bent and burning
|
| Open and undone expose the empty answers, someone
|
| I won’t sit silent by
|
| This war is bloodless and silent
|
| Relentlessly tightened
|
| Majesticaly subtle
|
| Adjusting the totals
|
| My reason and purpose
|
| My body is worthless
|
| Aware as if heightened
|
| The subtext is fat
|
| A gobfull of grease
|
| And they like it like that
|
| But im alive underneath
|
| A kind of firewheel centre says
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| «The lies are obese»
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| I won’t sit silent by
|
| This ain’t kansas
|
| I recognise you
|
| I think I can taste blood
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| I can’t feel my legs |