Maybe there’s a miracle waitin' to happen in de places and spaces with the mystical patterns where dark is light and de light is bright it's a struggle to maintain my appetite in a time that’s filled with gluttonous failure I'm at pains to express this ya devious behaviour. Spend money, time or a very last dime on de tings you would only ever leave behind.
It's a worrying time to lift you head up from the compass, with no obvious answers to the questions offered. Blinded by the fictions of an audio addiction, takes the senses to a place of imperceptable conditions.
Like who dare ask the sum of their parts? Who should tell of this becoming hell? To think is the link between life and death, enter this body of sound and escape the mesh.
As a child I was always happy-go-lucky, as a man I believe I am just plain lucky alive inside of this ya dangerous system, locked in and I'm twisted out of all recognition. See this is systematic of the tings I have seen, I am lost in Paranoia's most beautiful dream. An escape is made through a thousand doors with a sub bass emerging through the open floor.
In a state of near paralysis restriction forms analysis guided by subliminals that’s from another galaxy mobilised and lifted by this powers I've been gifted givin' answers to questions that never existed.
Like who dare ask is the sum their parts? Who should tell of this becoming hell? To think is the link between life and death, and to this body of sound and escape the mesh.