Dan The Automator - Puzzled By The Pieces lyrics

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Dan The Automator - Puzzled By The Pieces lyrics

[Verse 1] The blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb Take a look at the sky, cause it dies soon That ain't the case for the Infant, all these are remnants Of the old gothic lies that have been written in sentience Without sapience of the heart, leaving the doors ajar For further ignorance, oh blessed be the cart Brand New Eyes, the elders tell Eyes Wide Shut, out of this cell Phoning the bells, cause it's time for some noise Turn the radio on, it's not my choice Turn the radio off, everything s**s Look at my descendants, grab the coffee mug I see your face, it's as clear as it gets Ignorance is bliss, but look at the texts So long, call the charioteer Now is the hour, but you ain't here [Chorus] Puzzled by the pieces, but it all kind of fits, it makes the right hits, my conscience sits Don't be so wary, my other eyes deem it scary, you won't believe the underground glitz [Verse 2] It takes a man of feeling to break the Generation X A thousand cranes feel smacked, I hear the silence crack You take a trip over this shampoo planet But all families are psychotic, so you can't plan it Oh brave new world, we visit animal farms But the shadow of the wind leaves a mark on our forearm Our minds open to an absolute midnight I had to force you, but now you sit tight Hey Nostradamus, got a new one for you So come out of the coma to see what you can do Ghostwritten atlases chronicle our stars In this nameless city with these empty cars If the fisherman cut his soul for love and devotion Then we can become a whole, through peace and emotion When a selfish giant turns to a devoted friend Then it means our world is not at its end [Chorus] [Verse 3] My sixteen ran out, I've seen the pictures At the exhibition, it was the right mixture A counterpoint to the ma**, a parallel to the frown And a stretto for all the sounds in this town A fugue to the air and my mind to the chair There is so much going on, a motet in my hair But three things revolving round the same duct Are an elitists nightmare and they are the clucks