The man 'cross the street he don't move a muscle

though he's all covered in dust

when constitutions of granite can't save the planet

what's to become of us

with a painted restraint I don't move a muscle

though a turbine roars

if the bathwater's clear and my ear's underwater

it's a tolerant hum from the core



sleep's beckoning from the depths

from the cracks and from the crevices

join the army of ghosts

the murmurs in the mist



That's when the powers of observation

come to the periphery town

and we carry their water

we don't make a sound

and after gaining our resignation

they come through the chainlink fence

your only enemy's panic

your only chance is to start making sense



Sleep plunging into deeper debt

into bunkers and black minarets

on geyser of ink

a morning voice faint and yet



and it sounds heroincredible

sound that makes the headphones edible

awake affiliated and indelible



The man 'cross the street he don't move a muscle

though he's all covered in dust

says constitutions of granite can't save the planet

what's left to captivate us

what's left to captivate us

what's left to captivate us

what's to become of us