Objects Outlive Us: The Buddha Of The Modern Age

Steven Wilson

Compositor: Não Disponível

The Buddha of the modern age
Is barely paid minimum wage
To dole out truth and healthy karma
The same he gave to our forefathers
When once we reached to touch the sky
Now we have no need to try

The blurred photos of ghosts of men
Such permanence, we don't comprehend
Slaughter the sacred cow to stuff our stupid mouths
Already fit to burst through the insatiable thirst
To kill over and over

We interlopers the inferior species, wallow in our own feces
Gazing down at our navels and no longer able
To find some kind of perspective
Of us, all the invective
Glory in pathways of dopamine

Until time intervenes
Ramble struck down deeding
Share all over goats stampeding
But he has no need to try