Qwel - Bread & Circuses lyrics

Another plan, another man will stand up I never been a fan of the Phantom's Opera The mannequins dancing with the anacondas Rocking to the trance of the shock from chakra Clocks spin the same way, they painted it aqua No coincidences shown in mint, the offer Frozen in the grips of his nimble little finger Swinging ripples in the middle of the air It's crop dust Or send a sentimental glare to stop us The element of fear, with incredible stock cuts No heavy metal here, just inedible rock guts Inaudible pop hush, they outta go mock us Ox busts, running Tonka trucks in the hot mud Returning to the furnace with the surface of sod clumps Herded with shotguns, and burning the God crumbs Yearning for top crust, reverted to see-saw First we heard it, then we learned how to murder it, right Who's gonna sing me a song? Or better, ring the alarm? Or better leave me a bomb? Or call it tourniquet tight? Observe the bird in freefall, with his circuits in flight Serpentine strike might certainly lighten your load Purple green glow, where should we go? Earth can be cold, eternally snow Suppose the vermin learned to burden certain sections Of known discerning, meant for learning lessons Perverted best guesses, to determining "less-thans" “Well yes then, as earthlings we're most certainly cursed” As she curtseys at the dead end Suppose she had free range to rearrange the questions To dress 'em, to reflect the s**tant Yes I guess we have a quest then Hence direction, immense deception Is sent with a message to request the quest's end Present the questions, present the quest's end Forms standing, worn, warped, shadows saluting Grasp to handle the sandstorm, pouring through his eyes Pursuing his mind from what he's doing Putrid sky, “am I human?” he muses Lashes loose, magma, gashed and bruised As the answer slashes through him Rust hands, spewing, loosened quicksand Sees a man on a sand dune, a looming question Can it be the man with his message? The never ending quest, that's been pestering head Is it better if he never ever gets it? What if it's the truth, but refuses to accept it? Or chooses to reject it? “Move feet” losing his direction Woozy, doing it in sections Pulling through the wool breeze Shuffle through the glue steamed fume Just to view it for a second Man he gotta get at least a peek Then he's sure to get a little peace Rest when he sleeps, or the lack therefore 'Cause the fact of the matter: piranhas swarm his sleep Wants a cease of the shrieks, it's release he seeks It's relief, belief on the brink of falling Needs a drink a water, calling it a week Leave, receive the order, forty feet, he's on him Thirty feet, twenty, sun beat Three before he saw him Stump reach to greet an eaten arm Crawling near the jaw, knees weakened to falling Sinking, nauseous, stink of brine swine and pinkish olives Speaking tweak to commas Not on his stop, a bit to wonder yonder Rotted eyes, like if he had a tongue, he'd laugh Expend his last action, to flip me off or get me off the path Mind to hike just to spite him, or leave him spiked in Or be like him, life like he remembers Except with no direction As the deaf sender renders best guesses And less sun just gestures westward Head hurts, scabby tongue, hum under perching vultures Road to run, swollen gums And the shadows circle like clock's hands And the earth starts to swarm around like it's fish and not sand What is this ripped wrist, deep in the moat of locusts? Stranded, behold another man standing center Breast strokes to what he's holding Shimmers golden in the bitter sun It's glitter for the hopeless When he saw close enough, he must've started choking Any noise he would have uttered would have utterly broke him Funny, for the first time in this desert he was cold and frozen Before he noticed he felt his mouth start to motion Then had his swollen croaking throat stolen by the time gla** he showed him Sand rapidly flowing to the top, actually floating Empty chamber, half-empty chamber, last overflowing Said he could show him to path, mustn't show him where the road went Told him the trick to floating through the locusts is in the wrists Keep your hope open like your hands, stranded, only balling your fists Appalling thought, for want of water, and he's off with a wish Fought through the locusts of with broken salt gnawing at his wits March, marshmallow blister And a paw at a glimpse Then off in the mist he gets a glint from the fog Peep, no longer trusts his eyes Thinks, he must admit he's been wrong Grit grips at his knees and eyes He crawls, each thought spent for breathing Heaving distance shrinking in between each claw Then he saw a hand reaching long with a sheet in its palm Couldn't grab it if he had to, the heat was too strong Peep, neatly, flew it perfect view, not thinking too long Said, “I got a message unless it's a drink that you want” Down to seconds left, sweating, d**h blinked And met the heading Head and neck getting set for sleep Gets to reading along Hit him like a riddle in the middle of a fist fight Right, like he bit a nickel, licking on a nine volt Mind jolt Mine shows an image of a chicken climbing back inside an egg in spirals A picture of an infant, slipping on a tight rope Give it a cycle Is it that the instant that he listened to the message He was spinning in the wreckage of lifeboats Known that he was destined for the quest of the highroad Heat shook and beat, weak, please look at these Peep, appalled at all the woulda coulda shoulda took a drink