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 bath water'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
You're only enemy's panic
Your only chance is to start making sense
Sleep plunging into deeper debt
Into bunkers and black minarets
On a geyser of ink
A morning voice faint and yet
And it sounds hero incredible
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?
© LITTLE SMOKE MUSIC;
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