Our movement was never there
All we had was grand allusion
We were always far too self aware
Sublime is but profound confusion
And drugs and things were our default
The mind divine, carved in basalt

Language were the tools we had
And everything else just fell into place
For nothing stings like Ignominy
and ignorance just ain’t that bad

Because when it comes down to it
The only way you can really look at the world is with the objective lens of cold numbers.
But what is progress anyway?
Is it worthy of our toil?
As the mind attempts to foil
In its complex poor design

And why the disjoint anyway
The existential crunch
The winds and birds are here today
With frozen scaffold, mold and clay
So we ride on, the wild bunch