No one came before them The original gangsters Took a leap of faith Found nothing is fixed (perhaps) Silent progression an its svelte curved finger Starting our engines, we dived through the door Roaring regression, salute of four fingers Down is the price that we paid to stand up Back to the bricks, carved in a niche It never told us we'd have to buy shoes Flashes of future opened a portal A game made of blocking, where no one can lose Born with our minds blown We've sure kept our eyes on the prize Even dumb, dark and pegged We'll still have our picture books Our consciousness needs a hug and a kiss Incinerate cyclic denial Insinuate a means of escape and Psychically break with your own form of exit