The crowd throws their hands up proud. Something's lurking underground, here they come, come,we run, run. Graphically depict a scene, Affably be sick and mean, we sing, sing, sing, sing. Swing across a deep ravine, Jump to flashpoints we have seen, Swing over a sprawling scene, Jump into each other's dreams. Disaster looms from door to door, extracting data from the floor, what's it for, for, 4, 3, to her crooked digits and bent nails, reaching over blownback sails, we fail, fail, fail fail. Smoldered minutes burn into hours, Candyflips like windblown flowers, Just as quickly as it was ours, now defrocked of all our powers. Actions speak louder than words, but a picture won't be heard, so we shout, shout, out loud, loud. Young philosophers have left the womb, Socrates is still in bloom, they read, they think, they speak, we blink. Uncertain in this quaking bed, from all the mysteries we've been fed, and all the rights that we've been read, the populace remains misled. Our random access memory fails, our random access beached like whales, this gale, gale is stale, stale. Something always rings a bell, something's are an easy sell, show and tell, tell, tell. Tell them put literary thoughts aside, you'll never execute the dial, you'll never resist the hive, you'll never take me alive.