Из альбома: Mini Mansions

Through all the circuitry we’ll find time
Symmetrical moments in mind
Those eyes begin to think


Styrofoam magic marker moons or tombs
Superglue all your pretty wounds
Though I begin to drink

Milk from a dead end star, astro-physically out of shape
Waking up the metal mercenary, suffocating in the room outside

Paper mache manawar-lords of course
Plastic champagne and sliding doors
Those eyes begin to think

Planetal Targets in my mind, sometimes
Losing perspective on my kind.
Though I begin to drink

Milk from a dead end star, astro-physically out of shape
Have you met the jewel architect, he’s burning slowly in the room outside

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