ah, I put out too much gloomy shit
so here's sumthin' a bit more high spirited..;P
as your plastic world
is spinning you 'round, spinning around you
abandoned in, your own creation
do you feel animated?
like some one's makin' you up , makin' you up now
A motör tickin' pulse through flesh machinery
warping twilight, into a black 'n' white scenery
The amplitude of your mode swings
got you thrown for a loop
through fruitcake frequencies
Spilling over, into red distortion
that cuts through the mind
leaving you out, leaving you out here
Supermagnetic lean towards the wrong ends
swung around as the critical line bends
Gettin' lost, to be found
gettin' high, or hug the ground
rollin' stoned, a magic buzz
stuff hits home, what's all the fuzz
Just take off, spin the globe
hit the sweet spots, an inner probe
long dusty roads, a desert sunset
soular rythm, pouring sweat
Turn the prism, disintegrate reality
into shifting shapes of gas
breakin' you up, breakin' you down down
Tuned in some subtle shit, on the ol' mind radio
the 8 levels and the zillion distractions
leadin' you off, off the map now...
Follow a stranger, abide and roam
travel far, into the unknown, 'til you get home
Gettin' lost, to be found
hovering high, we get around
rollin' stoned, a magic buzz
goin' to sleep, is not for us
Just take off, spin this globe
hit the sweet spots, an inner probe
long dusty roads, desert sunset
between horizons, pouring sweat
Poetry by Dead Mans hand
Read 871 times
Written on 2008-09-23 at 22:06
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so here's sumthin' a bit more high spirited..;P
Altitude-thickness
Your pick-up, licks a trackas your plastic world
is spinning you 'round, spinning around you
abandoned in, your own creation
do you feel animated?
like some one's makin' you up , makin' you up now
A motör tickin' pulse through flesh machinery
warping twilight, into a black 'n' white scenery
The amplitude of your mode swings
got you thrown for a loop
through fruitcake frequencies
Spilling over, into red distortion
that cuts through the mind
leaving you out, leaving you out here
Supermagnetic lean towards the wrong ends
swung around as the critical line bends
Gettin' lost, to be found
gettin' high, or hug the ground
rollin' stoned, a magic buzz
stuff hits home, what's all the fuzz
Just take off, spin the globe
hit the sweet spots, an inner probe
long dusty roads, a desert sunset
soular rythm, pouring sweat
Turn the prism, disintegrate reality
into shifting shapes of gas
breakin' you up, breakin' you down down
Tuned in some subtle shit, on the ol' mind radio
the 8 levels and the zillion distractions
leadin' you off, off the map now...
Follow a stranger, abide and roam
travel far, into the unknown, 'til you get home
Gettin' lost, to be found
hovering high, we get around
rollin' stoned, a magic buzz
goin' to sleep, is not for us
Just take off, spin this globe
hit the sweet spots, an inner probe
long dusty roads, desert sunset
between horizons, pouring sweat
Poetry by Dead Mans hand
Read 871 times
Written on 2008-09-23 at 22:06
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text
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F.i.in.e Moods |
