From some synaptic arrangement
bright blur buried
fires a feeling
my spirit hovers
a whole room and all its beings in silent awe
opening a docile man
Doc pulls a power-drill
an unholy scream
unheard by the people
silently working, subtly sensing
the soul's distressing
bright blur buried
fires a feeling
my spirit hovers
a whole room and all its beings in silent awe
opening a docile man
Doc pulls a power-drill
an unholy scream
unheard by the people
silently working, subtly sensing
the soul's distressing