I'm vapin on my escoota
Goin up da hill
iPhone12 in hand
Life is quite a thrill

Town centa is the destination
MackyDs to stop
A quarter pounder is the deal
Onions and analogue cheese all da the way to the top

Cor that babe looks nice
I'm looking supa cool on my scoota
Shoulda packed my ****
Got to put that idea thru ya

I'm an Architect of air
I exist to sit between you and progress
You hear my name said all of the time
On social media and TV

I am the Architect of nothing
I exist to create nothing for you
Even though my remit is to help you
My pleasure is your displeasure

I am the Architect of broken time
My clock is always off and I'm always late
There is no finish or completion
My mantra is to process air
Input to output with no added value

Postman, binman, policeman
My language constrains my thoughts
To a small world, Brian's world.

Whorfianism is the constraint
Language rules, the paint
To paint a better picture
To expand our universe

The time has come where
We need to think past the pathetic notion
of linear time, past and present
To a sentence where past, present and future
are one

Just go to a field
Sit on a bench
And breath...

Just go to a field
Don't take your phone
And stop thinking...

Just go to a field
Take in the grass
Forget about stuff...

Just go to a field
Don't drive there
No need to race...

Just go to a field
The light is there
Smile...

Indigo Blue was a Comanche through and through
She'd sit near the Grand Canyon tourist spot
And watch the champagne and the helicopters land
White men upon Comanche sand

Alcohol fuels her people now
White man and white money drive the wheel
The land was taken, nothing left to steel
White man rules that's the deal

She smile and drags from her last cigarette
Her mother looks on..starts to fret
She know there's nothing left to do
White man has won, no time for coup

Everything has value
Everything you see
Everyone can contribute
Everyone can be

Nothing is worth ignoring
Nothing is less than than it's sum
Nothing needs a break
Nothing is not fake

Something is worth holding onto
Something is the start
Something is the mind start
Something is the art

Hope is the ignition
Hope is the cart
Hope will take us to that place
Hope is that smile on your face

The space between my thoughts
Is where I want to be
Breathing in, breathing out
Time stands still

My heart and lungs as a piston
No thoughts now, no thoughts then
The piston moves up , moves down
That's all there is

Calm, no storm
Calm, no fear
Smiling I look up
Deep breath in and..
back to reality