Behind shaky worship heaves a bitter moon 
Motherwit and street smarts bloom 
Things fall apart the center cannot hold 
Women on rockets and the men all follow 
There might not a file but they're keeping tabs on you oil on water and a turd in the 
Louvre Turncoats smile and then they grieve 
They dig your grave shallow so you can breathe 
Into Thin 
Air The yellow sun will someday smolder red 
Cords and cables, steel and concrete lie useless and dead 
No worms and blood, bones and hair 
A pasteless shell powders into thin air 
Into Thin 
Air