We’ve been randomly assigned this disease by the ones who will sell us the air that we breathe and replace the sun with machines.
Back and forth my, traffic light eyes, blink both in time, “you’ll be fine”
Our beliefs are our disease, the sun was replaced by machines.
With nothing to hold on to. Our love has nothing to hold onto.
Hostility exposes the sadness of vertical memory. Oh, our love is the sadness of vertical memory.
Back and forth my, traffic light eyes, blink both in time, “you’ll be fine”
Our beliefs are our disease, the sun was replaced by machines.