Tattoo my soul on a peach pit
Coffee, sit, Selah, pause and reflect
A new dialect, hearing exchanges
Voices like rain all around me
Together and moving, organic and clueless
Bacteria on the breakroom faucet
Lost somewhere on it, bean crud ruddity, crudity
Crude collapsed faces moaning screams for pocket change
And two **** cigarettes
Hoping for rain just to get wet
Take a bath
This is the aftermath of being continuously alert, no intermission
Space flight gone right, cruise missile slippin
We're tipping towards the edge
A whole species about to end up dead
Replaced
Built them into machines, gave them a face
Creatures of loving grace
Electronic master race