Listen and I'll tell you the story of our end
Equate the calculation, salvation's fucking dead
Learn the lesson quickly
The enemies of reality bring the sickness
Of cleansing geniusWhat are we but men without eyes?
Swimming through the poison of designCreate the infinite and expand the question
Count to number seven
Your day of rest creates infection, your imperfectionWhat are we but men without eyes?
Swimming through the poison of designThe waves ran as the storm came
The lightning in the distance signaled the coming crushing days
The sky was brooding and beautiful
And the gulls sailed like recycled fragile entitiesThe waves bled as the storm changed
In the cold embrace of the unknown
Not even blood could bring us warmthThere is no future shock
There is no god
There is no fashionable deliveranceWhat are we but men without eyes?
Swimming through the poison of design
What are we but men without eyes?
Swimming through the poison of design