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 genius



What are we but men without eyes?

Swimming through the poison of design



Create the infinite and expand the question

Count to number seven

Your day of rest creates infection, your imperfection



What are we but men without eyes?

Swimming through the poison of design



The waves ran as the storm came

The sky was brooding and beautiful

And the gulls sailed like recycled fragile entities



The waves bled as the storm changed

In the cold embrace of the unknown

Not even blood could bring us warmth



There is no future shock

There is no god

There is no fashionable deliverance



What 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