Из альбома: Out of a Center Which Is Neither Dead nor Alive
Life ends as leaves fall Occam's razor strikes again
Can I dance if I have no soul?
If I go under will you find me cold?
And if I travel to distant lands, would you walk beside me and hold my hand?
Blessed realization
Blessed consternation
Suffering from aberration
Sores ignored panic restored
Consuming the fruits of our labors
We are the aberration