Let us pretend we’ve got it together.
Let us ignore the coming sun.
We’ll sing the body electric until machine and soul are one.
I’ve see the tweaker struggle… syringes lined the floor.
A cycle churned to life by dead end jobs and a government’s war.
In Time the trees die and light will fade.
One by one the monsters trample.
Through woods and dirt they feed.
Let us burn the nation’s budget.
Let’s send boys overseas to fight ghosts in the desert instead of teaching them to give and lead…
In time. In time.
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