Such distance to the tips of the fingers
The ganglion loom jerks inside;
The body grows steadily stranger
But the spirit won't be denied
That sharp halogen flash jars the eyeball
The limbs pump in overdrive;
The body grows seemingly weaker
But the s
Pirit won't be denied
Yeah, the ash-mark stands out on the forehead
As the vacuum sneaks up on the eyes;
The body becomes a constant traitor
But the spirit won't be denied
And they call that living a normal live
But normality's not standardised
Though the body gets ever more root-bound
The spirit won't be denied
Yes, the spirit survives