Good Morning, Universe
Quelle: Spotify
I can feel their branches like fingers
Flashing nimble signs of silent criticism
Dryly criticizing my entire inner workings, wet and dirty
Earthworms and insects
On missions of reconnaisance are welcome inhabitants
And every now and then I feel one exit
How many go unnoticed? How many interspecies languages have they decoded?
These trees are all so old, I really don't know why they're interested
Why they talk the loudest when they know that I'll be listening
I've tried to decipher the shouting of the rivers, and the valleys, and the mountains
Figure out what it's about
And all I've got is birds chirping, red Sharpie circles 'round my words
So they're converting all my thoughts to wordless noise
So I finally decided I would help them
If this is their intention, I could be the finest ally to the cause
The covert reports can all be called off
You wanna broadcast my thoughts? Let's get them straight from the source
I can stand on street corners, draw diagrams of strangers
Hand out pages from my diary, with footnotes and annotations
So that passerby can identify the remains of my life
(Don't even bother, it's all a bunch of fuckin' lies!)
The trees no longer need to keep a live feed on my heart beat
I'll talk to anything with ears until I've bled out all my secrets
I'm begging, please, at least let me keep my body
It's not stopping sun setting, clock ticking, rock spinning
The ozone won't stop whispering
The xylophone bones
In my ribs are shown explicitly
I keep my lips sealed, but somehow
It's amounting and accounted independent of my mouth
My spine wants out
It's ironic, I think my own body is making fun of me
Mocking the absense of a skeleton in this rubbish heap
You want a beef? Fine
This game was made for two to play
We can give or take 'til my balls break, my dome leaks, my brain fails
I can run on empty, then when my skull decompresses
And it's contents on the table
Maybe they'll be plainly legible
I'll be ready to sleep
You can feed me intraveinously
Some pairin' of paramedics will poke their heads down here eventually
Until then, forget it
I'm sick of feeling parasitic in my own temple
Not knowin' my reflection
Too much wasted effort on a vessel that betrays me every chance that it gets
I can feel their branches like fingers
Poking, prying, pushing pins and needles underneath my skin
My battered nervous system tangled
A voodoo doll made out of chewing gum and chicken innards
Stuffed with bets for approximation of a human being
I can feel them laughing when I make decisions
Mimicking the actions I had taken
In my sleep when I've dreamed of realistic situations
I am merely nature's plaything
Pointing at the sun and trying to pull back on the string
I'm just a million wet cells, each completely senseless
A million turning worlds brillst effecting for the necklace
Atoms scattered to the wind, My skin turns to sand
Magnifications of my brain shape the terrain of this land
Of this prison, I'm not concerned with learning how to live in this position
Powerless, buried at the bottom of the hourglass
Powerless, buried at the bottom of the hourglass
Buried at the bottom of the hourglass
Buried
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