Breaking up in tiny rooms
suckling on the teat of s***e.
In lucid fields I've come to pass
in the bottle I do see his face.
Mother, have we come to terms
when our insides become unlaced.
Knowing that it'll come to this
the absolute nothing black of s***e.
b***** trips in all the world
walled up here like there's a race.
Do walls mean we have mottled hearts?
Our will continues on the rays.
Planets always moving out
spreading at a steady pace.
Spinoza, sorry, when fission stands
there won't be god, just blacker s***e.
suckling on the teat of s***e.
In lucid fields I've come to pass
in the bottle I do see his face.
Mother, have we come to terms
when our insides become unlaced.
Knowing that it'll come to this
the absolute nothing black of s***e.
b***** trips in all the world
walled up here like there's a race.
Do walls mean we have mottled hearts?
Our will continues on the rays.
Planets always moving out
spreading at a steady pace.
Spinoza, sorry, when fission stands
there won't be god, just blacker s***e.