Through all the circuitry we'll find time
Symmetrical moments in mind
Those eyes begin to think
Styrofoam magic marker moons or tombs
Superglue all your pretty wounds
Though I begin to drink
Milk from a dead end star, astro-physically out of shape
Waking up the metal mercenary, suffocating in the room outside
Paper mache manawar-lords of course
Plastic champagne and sliding doors
Those eyes begin to think
Planetal Targets in my mind, sometimes
Losing perspective on my kind.
Though I begin to drink
Milk from a dead end star, astro-physically out of shape
Have you met the j**el architect, he's burning slowly in the room outside