Gravity is precious

The air we breathe is wine

If you think the stars are joking, you’ve already lost your mind


Brave child

Why are you all-a-weep?

The huntress shall return


Meek and mild

I know you watch me sleep

Cities are gonna burn


But what a careless thought


Such a crown of thorns


When we all can be sold and bought

We’ll hear the bell that warns


Gonna March right outta this town


To the woods

To the thicket

To the marsh

To the groves




Gonna live underground