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Search you'll find no flies |
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On a parabol this size no you won't |
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With all our flagrant passes |
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We incur upon the people |
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To privatize the monuments |
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And publicize that steeples don't hurt anymore |
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Then they used to hurt |
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Race the ramparts high 'neath the canopy of lies as it were |
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Amidst the subtle traces |
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Whether particle or bone |
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We detect a weakness, yes |
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The sense we have honed don't work anymore |
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And they used to work |
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Amidst the subtle traces |
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Whether particle or bone |
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We detect a weakness, yes |
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The sense we have honed don't work anymore |
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Then they used to work |
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One could say we've lost the space race |
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One could say we've lost the space race |
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One could say we've lost the space race |
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And another one could say we're won |
