Million Dead - Murder and create | Текст песни

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• Million Dead
• Murder and create

How should I begin? I find myself residing
at the dried out end of a dead history.
All my thoughts of are dirt
Scattered on a coffin.
And I a dilettante funeral spectator here.

How should I presume?
A besuited bourgeois mourner,
Virgin to surrender and vivid sense,
I scour lichened stones, desperately seeking
Daedalus's paternal secret of where we will land.

Well, I was born with four fingers on each hand,
And with my eight fingers and my thumbs, I do maths.

Once again, how should I begin?
I've started weak and I'm stuttering,
But I have all remembered all my lines.
It seems that I have presumes
To talk of maths
In front of crowded rooms.
But I'll make the two times table mine.

How should I begin?
I find myself residing
At the dried out end of a dead history.

How should I presume?
A besuited bourgeois mourner,
Virgin to surrender and vivid sense,

Calculus finishes me,
I don't follow trigonometry,
I've got nothing to add to algebra,
The more complex functions
I don't remember.
But arithmetic...

The absolute zero
Is arithmetic
On fingers and toes.

I have remembered all my lines.
I'll make the two times table mine.
I will not presume, but I will thus begin.

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