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The Wake LyricsArtist: Folly
Album: Resist Convenience
In hind sight for sore eyes on the prize fighter.
Pilot, gunner, navigator, the sky.
The mountains luke-warm, metaphorically speaking.
Speaking of metaphors?
The simile is a front-runner.
The simile lacks a blue-print.
With an enchanting proposal, one foot led the other, congruent.
To think your only god would flaunt you.
To think your only god would fight you!
Raise a frail fist at the creator.
Scream "I want to meet my maker!" persistently the ground tends to make way for you.
Exchange all those hats for a hairline.
Define the cycles of existence to think and act just as we do.
We're blasphemous separatists de-railing the trains of thought.
Reparations for misopportunities.
Pay some respect: the transitional currency.
Should have soaked it all in, absorbed the pouring rains past.
Let sheets blanket the suits so the dust can settle in sorrow.
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