pick a spot in the lines that twist about the wood and metal, and dont look up. curl up in your egg lest the walls falls away. gloom everywhere, death is a greasy gloom burger, it’s not unheard of but its still a shock, the feeling will pass away like it does every other day. oh golden bird, oh golden knife of science, we all were liars, no cause for accusations I reached my hand into the black and plucked out gold, but its hollow. there's nothing really there, its a trick of smoke and mirrors. so here are my new hands, same as your hands, same as always, same as nothing, here are my new hands, same as your hands, same as nothing soon to be something again, soon to be something again, again, soon to be something again, again, soon to be something again, again, soon to be something again, again, again.