I'm sure I didn't notice transitions
It must have slipped by in my distractions
When did the proof of purchase supersede the voyage
Why do we glorify the audience
Strike this age of witness
Can't see the shoreline
Endless narcissism
Sinking in silence
Not engaging only standing
Fight the existentials
Can't see the shoreline
Means of our reduction
Sinking in silence
This ship of ill intentions
Is this the natural transition?
Or some collective policy
This is the sound of my rejection
This is the hope I can't erase
All of the games can't be for nothing, can't be saved
When will the cycles stop their motion
What will remain our intent?
Books of images and lessons of the dead, of the dead
It sounds like some sad old cliché
An oblivious truth of the disease
Observation over action, no views no satisfaction
Every adoration takes the lead
Strike this age witness
Can't see the shoreline
Means of our reduction
Sinking in silence
This ship of ill intentions
Is this the natural transition?
Or some collective policy
Is this the last de-evolution?
Or fucking productivity?
This is the sound of my rejection
This is the hope I can't escape
All of the games can't be forgotten
All of the options can't be spent
When the cycles stop their motion
When the oceans start to recede
Just remains of all projection in the sea