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With the synth and sound we might just believe that we could do |
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all the things in our minds with exacto knives and bings that will make you |
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write all the sounds, all men traded into worlds where we due to |
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love, and defined all the leaves that we can speak about |
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Well, you know where you like that the cinder blocks are taking up our |
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view for a while with the simple mathematics of our |
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lives and design. There's a head that pointed five degrees to the |
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right; do you know there will only be so many of our kind? |
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Give us some of the ghost notes |
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Give us some of the chosen, oh! |
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Give us some of the closing slots |
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Give us some of the falsest hope |
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We are lies and go right down through the suction on the great |
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eye and we climb; do you know the knee scrapes represent that we |
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thought of design? It comes in and rolls you out with thoughts of the |
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world not in line; do you think that they're imaginary |
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hearts? It was right to return to pieces of the circle |
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where we declined. I know military moments will believe |
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us; it's a sound, and a tick-tock to the world that tells you |
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how you arrive; do you think that we are momentary? |
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Give us some of the ghost notes |
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Give us some of the chosen, oh! |
|
Give us some of the closing slots |
|
Give us some of the falsest hope |
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This is where the like, the like rude choir comes in, alright? it goes like this, it's like: |
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'Cause we wanna love, wanna sift through the creation time by |
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night with your thoughts; you know, I am just a literary fox |
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with a song. They come in like shells and sink right through the |
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world and the rhyme. You know pieces of the poetry go |
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out for the cause; does it feel like somethings missing? Time to |
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concede for a while because all that's right is always; that's what's |
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wrong! In your mind are the churches right beneath the stairs of your |
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house and the time, it's the tick-tock going out and weary... |
