| Pick up and shake in the wind |
| Shed your resource and keep it down, trashed |
| Trashed, trashed, trashed |
| Don’t make it right, don’t move it in |
| Put it in the mouth, and swallowed the whole |
| Smashed, smashed, smashed, smashed |
| It makes all the fucking sense to me |
| And could it make all the sense to you? |
| Let it ride |
| Because there ain’t no winning in this one, right |
| I try to facilitate, whine in restoration |
| Blown |
| Blow through the prime of life |
| Numb all the senses down |
| Project your fear of heights |
| Onto untravelled ground |
| Fry hallucinate, pry investigate |
| Blow through the prime of life |
| Numb all the senses down |
| Project your fear of heights |
| Onto untravelled ground |
| Pitfalls of grief, on all that displayed on the ground out |
| Prophetically speaking the wilted unformulated |