The disengagement of the bubble is hypnotizing
Some say below the doughy crust the beast is rising
We like to talk about the past
We like to TALK about the past
Well we talk about the past like it's the strangest dream
Then we REPEAT the things we never dreamed we'd do
I understand that sometimes we all must dance with f**ery
But everybody's pissing in the well of our suffering
I want to breathe in all the ashes of the books they tried to burn
I want to feel the pages in my skin and understand the words. Castrate fiction. Call it circumstance
They say her wanderings are dangerous – all she wants to do is
DANCE
DANCE
Question period's over
Don't you feel it? I do
You'll be pummeled by the certainty of minions
It's a puppet show, a theatre of opinions
A of flack
Feeder of the pack
You can hear the shaky timbre of the voices most alone
Yeah, it's easier to sing within the crowd
Those who PRETEND to believe hardest
Might actually BEGIN TO;
The nature of the bliss the warmth of ignorance gives into
I want to breathe in all the ashes of the books they tried to burn
I want to taste resilience on my tongue and love beyond concern. Ma**-grave subtlety, leave it for the birds
They say the world, it might be dangerous, but all it seems to do is
TURN. (Bitten by the hand that feeds you.)
(Holding to what you're beholden to.) Question period's over
Don't you feel it? I do
(Holding to what you're beholden to.) Question period's over. Don't you feel it? I do
(Holding to what you're beholden to.)