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Again I wake up to your end, your ways and means |
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I watch your machinations seamless on the screen |
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I turn away again but still your always there |
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Your vacant, automatic smile is everywhere |
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The bright procession flashes past |
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In 2 dimensions under glass |
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The smile that lies between the lines |
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Luminous the union beams |
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Between the gods and their machines |
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The numb seduction of the blind |
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Sacrosanct the rank and file |
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Of perfect angels passes by |
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To modify the mind's desire |
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And no 3rd dimension troubles this |
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Procession where there's no abyss |
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In which there burns a fire |
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So you will jinx us with your trinkets and your tricks |
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Your malcontented ravings and your razor bladed wits |
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Go on you little clown and do your very worst |
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Go ahead and starve to death, or satisfy your thirst |
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The bright procession flashes past - Bad little insects find it tricky to survive |
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In 2 dimensions under glass |
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The smile that lies between the lines |
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Luminous the union beams - As they infest the sickest segments of the hive |
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Between the gods and their machines |
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The numb seduction of the blind |
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Sacrosanct the rank and file - Though we might whisper pretty words from time to time |
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Of perfect angels passes by |
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To modify the mind?s desire |
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And no 3rd dimension troubles this - They'll get no honey like the ones who stay in line |
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Procession where there's no abyss |
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In which there burns a fire |
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So yet another preconception dead ahead |
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A winning grimace and a gnawing sense of dread |
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A set of orders from a disembodied head |
