[00:41.224]What could be true does not interest you at all
[00:51.134]As if you knew every new fact obscures the truth
[01:00.870]A mad orange slave on a slaver ship at dawn
[01:10.139]Squinting your eyes and counting waves
[01:41.694]But shot back from traveling on a shuttle bus full of queasiness
[01:50.914]Headed home and hurtling forward towards a certain doom
[01:57.460]As the rain on the windshield streaks down the glass
[02:05.717]You notice a fissure, a glinting gold splinter then a sickening crack as your neck snaps and takes you back
[02:35.976]To a different Dutch slaver passing curving cliffs at dawn
[02:45.600]With grandpa’s fat wraith directing you onward
[02:55.099]While his insect lieutenants hack limbs off with their swords
[03:05.256]You squint your eyes and count waves