The man 'cross the street he don't move a muscle though he's all covered in dust when constitutions of granite can't save the planet what's to become of us with a painted restraint I don't move a muscle though a turbine roars if the bathwater's clear and my ear's underwater it's a tolerant hum from the core
sleep's beckoning from the depths from the cracks and from the crevices join the army of ghosts the murmurs in the mist
That's when the powers of observation come to the periphery town and we carry their water we don't make a sound and after gaining our resignation they come through the chainlink fence your only enemy's panic your only chance is to start making sense
Sleep plunging into deeper debt into bunkers and black minarets on geyser of ink a morning voice faint and yet
and it sounds heroincredible sound that makes the headphones edible awake affiliated and indelible
The man 'cross the street he don't move a muscle though he's all covered in dust says constitutions of granite can't save the planet what's left to captivate us what's left to captivate us what's left to captivate us what's to become of us