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Through all the circuitry we’ll find time Symmetrical moments in mind Those eyes begin to think Styrofoam magic marker moons or tombs Superglue all your pretty wounds Though I begin to drink Milk from a dead end star, astro-physically out of shape Waking up the metal mercenary, suffocating in the room outside Paper mache manawar-lords of course Plastic champagne and sliding doors Those eyes begin to think Planetal Targets in my mind, sometimes Losing perspective on my kind. Though I begin to drink Milk from a dead end star, astro-physically out of shape Have you met the jewel architect, he’s burning slowly in the room outside From Letras Mania