frontiers are see through clear thinking is mud in the techno weed bed savage roses bud our culture is in shambles our sanity`s in hock answers are running amok
like beggars in the market pretending to be blind in following the string home all order will unwind
we beat our wings but we`re not flying we are falling, falling can`t hear sense because we`re deafened by disorder calling like a dream we turn and toss but all is chaos
death will bring rest to us all death will bring rest to us all
final curtain is torn up see the play start again but let`s have no grey script for the joy of grey men there must be some brand new ark to torpedo with our votes replace it with ballot paper boats
all differences are washed out ideologies will blend our pockets may be brimming but it`s cash that we can`t spend
we beat our wings . . .
nature`s had enough now and she`ll hit us where it hurts we have to stand and walk straight no more riding on her skirt
we beat our wings ...
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