After all, no one has to has these days, since eating one's own shell is sos... so depressing
Scouring your liquid rack
For those first few rats
Euthanizing the young slick horse you might've high rode in on the white and blue earth, love with your eyes open
No one spits out mother's milk at twenty one wearing their umbilical
Caught outside their clothing on a highschool dance hall sits
Rushing deep blue purple clothes, their eyes alone
And poem, and poem, and poem
These are the days that'll be
Red white and, (x16)
And poem, (x8)
These are days of anyone being gone
The days of mind convincing any gray god
Time of uncertainty NOISE
And expensive genetic engineering
The time bright black clothes
Behold the information age, and it's molecular nitpicking
These are salutations from the nebulous and smoking
These space settings of american cancer society
Hold fork and feud old the terrible break
And poem, (x4)
These are the days that will forever be
Red white and, (x16)
And it goes a little something like:
Are you busy?
Losing yourself
At the aerospace museum
Hand sign gone strong, eyes starting to water
And there in the sun
Which beats fear into your wallet
Waking up your victim to befriend cops
At last coming cleaning, feeling life like
You wanting to test the cool waters of fallen for god
With the down arrows going in beyond where I want
And the members telling you "it's the USA, is indicative"