Letras
Truth is your thoughts and not what you said
Language is prison for what's in your head
The thought is a mountain of matter
The word is a shred of what's in your head
I said, the truth isn't guilty
Your innocence pled
Language is prison for what's in your head
The thoughts and the feelings are living
The symbols are dead
The symbols are simple, simple, simple
Hear ye, hear ye, hear me clearly
Disappear you cheery weird things
Silly, god fearing, eerie, dreary golems
Got to strip the gears from the steering column
Periodically empty feedbacks
Feather dust the brain must defrag
Kill the cheap ass hits on your tape recorder
Can't fight transitions with tanks and mortars
Or troop formations with ranks and orders
No borders, landlocked peninsula
This is not for your grandfather's band of brothers
New land discovered
The map's not the territory
Cause everything said is a fairytale
A story told from someone's glory hole
Boring old facts with injected flavor
All the good metadata's neglected later
Cyrano de Bergerac
To observe the facts
Because their everyday words are flat
As the earth in a dark aged almanac
Dissolve the facts in passion
Exaggerated action
Massive men and yellow eyed dragons
No bad skin or idiosyncrasies
I hear the sound as the video sync
Repeat the phrase again
It should be the same, right?
The nights are a little obscure by the daylight
Aim right into the dark for miss marks
And starts as a word
Turns into a spark that's absurd
And merges with all of the urges within
That lurk in your skin
It certainly blends
Reversing the purpose again
And then it's a circus experience
Worthless until it's averse to the sericous serpent kiss
When you're all alone you are an animal