One hundred years from now

See the chrome, can't hear it move

I'll meet you on the way down

Wrapped around somebody's hand

We've all moved on from here

The colour's running dry

A drowsy line of wasted time

Bathes my open mind



This strange machinery

Is keeping you from seeing me

I'll meet you on the way down

Can't stay - unbearable to go



(andy bell/mark gardener)