| Icy waters flow between us
|
| In shelf life shock in the morning
|
| I see rivers split to deltas
|
| And trickle into the ocean
|
| With my bow and my arrow
|
| I will aim towards my atlas
|
| And where I hit I’ll go
|
| And in my chosen location
|
| I will croon a sorry sermon
|
| And tune my bass to D.E.A.D.
|
| Live volcanoes turn to craters
|
| When their egos turn into space dust
|
| Teleport me from this vacuum
|
| I’ve some contraband information
|
| With my bow and my arrow
|
| I will aim towards my atlas
|
| And where I hit I’ll go
|
| And in my chosen location
|
| I will croon a sorry sermon
|
| And tune my bass to D.E.A.D.
|
| (Just get out of my space…)
|
| With my bow and my arrow
|
| I will aim towards my atlas
|
| And where I hit I’ll go
|
| And in my given location
|
| I will croon a sorry sermon
|
| And tune my bass to L.U.V. |