In ancient waters toxic, piling drums for the dying sun
Prying ghosts want to know, you a man child swept up in
an iron lung
Molten lava in my hands, trying to put the world back
together as I see fit before they got em
Escape the paint factory they said, but the fumes got
em
Seats on Ratzingers lap they applied for
Comrades, belly open, what are they dying for?
Living in shacks with remote controls
Long as they freeze one by one never ask the question
Mediocrity sets in around spring, by noon, forgot our
lesson
The Leviathan, buying trends, turning trends to cannon
fodder
Must have been, gunshot down the street, bullet holes
in the loft windows
Damn ear murder down stairs and we defend our enemy,
know thy enemy, love thy butcher...
Rottin' molecules in my neck is enemy
Spoiling my spine
So I speak like a half dead old man, with a graveyard
in his gut
Can't return to the past or days of hand holding
Cowardice a disease, only replaced by a long jump
I can't save the world with love, and they can't kill
me with looks
Nowadays, fundamentalists don't even reed, can't kill
em with books
Somewhat art replace by CGI, can't kill em with prose
All I need it to get the water out of my knees, but the
alter is too high
Goddess Mare, come get me on your magic jetpack, lets
blacken the sky
I'm cutting the umbilical, no matter the cause
I touch the mantle, I feel my insides pull, and we
ain't ate since 68
You think they been here all along, but they only just
arrived in on cavalry
It's party time at the River Styx
We stay drunk for health despite what the river thinks
In quicksand they hand you a shovel, "This is how we
build."
In real life they hand you C4, "This is how we feel."
With no instruction manual, a functional man makes good
on twenty percent of his promises
Don't wait up for me, I am on the run from the man I
used to be
He who stands in his place suffers no illusions
He who jobs in his place suffers no contusions
Everyone is somewhat false, so I prefer seclusion
With my insides torn, the outside is gone to me
Shadowboxed in the scenery
I used to be like, "I can fix things if you lean on
me."
Now I'm blinded, no more cowards bleed on me
That's the designs and plans, ain't no gettin' ahead
when you standing on landmines
Like ripples in puddles, worlds and words easily erased
So far we've come, so short we fall from our face, on a
lithograph in Pompeii
The king had many men, many lands, many things
All that remains is broken bones and melted golds
That won't even hold the volcanic ash on a strip
mall...