I'm leavin' to walk the road inside my head with cord in hand and powder breath I stand and wave goodbye goodbye... the systematomatic thinks, while buying blood on Broadway street where the old messiahs go that pulsing through the atmosphere are answers to the questions you should know don't let it go, or it's all downhill from here examples of the afterlife responding visions half the time and the other vertigo spun off the Earth a thousand times and caught the wind that purifies the soul you should know, it's all downhill from here lost out here adrift in lights, it's wonderous weightless in clouds of colors the world will never see and I am a figment of reality wrapped in the shroud of endless night I scream aloud but no one hears, so I tell my stories to satellites and I am lost inside a memory the pattern picks the pockets of the palindrome back to front the loss remains the same and it beckons to the East to give the West its eyes while the oscillating rhythm marks its bones to the young it gives a vision of the dead and gone while the old recieve a pa**ion to survive and the pattern picks the pockets of the palindrome before the oscillating rhythm takes to flight...