| To the center of the earth
|
| Or anywhere god decides
|
| Full of fever pulling forth
|
| We hear our call as all
|
| To the center of the earth
|
| As if written in
|
| DNA is reaching out
|
| To your frequency
|
| I want to live
|
| Don’t want to die
|
| I want to live
|
| I want to try
|
| All in prayer
|
| Prayer in all
|
| All are scared
|
| Scared of all
|
| Black rooms are calling
|
| To men in leather coats
|
| White labs are cooking up the silver ghost
|
| The glass migrates under her translucent skin
|
| And all the spiders wonder what we’ve got us in
|
| All is you
|
| You are all
|
| All with you
|
| You in all
|
| I want to live
|
| I don’t want to die
|
| I want to live
|
| I want to try
|
| So beats the final coda
|
| Of a vintl storm
|
| One more cherry cola to lift up her dead arms
|
| A dream of sot focus sunsets filters thru the din
|
| We are losing contact as she dials it in
|
| She can hear glass calling
|
| Or is it someone that looks like him
|
| She eyes tv reflection and nods a knowing look
|
| She says it doesn’t matter
|
| She never liked her looks
|
| I have seen a thousand fractures
|
| I have seen everything
|
| Cause knowing is it’s own answer
|
| Love something in a book
|
| There’s not much left to ponder
|
| Not much left to cook
|
| As she counted the spiders
|
| As they crawled up inside her
|
| As she counted the spiders
|
| As they crawled up inside her |