The Agonist - Ideomotor

We are but prisoners, of waterfalls.
We stand on broken ribs, faces to the glass we drown.
Heavy mileage on our minds. We wrap the Earth in cerebral folds.
And the corps we carry really is a weight we'd like to throw.
We love the strange new animals, we love the fearful plants.
And we all surrender, turpentine to rid us of our past.
You would walk the rotton hillside, you would taste the clouds bellow.
But the world you walk is running water through valleys in palms of hands.
We all know we will be respected by greed and death and loathed by clarity.
Jettisoned.
Emotions flood the banks. The valleys overflow.
If only memory served us better we could swim to dry our souls.
We're suicidal swans. We're silence in throats we creep.
You'll know us by the shaking ground, when ideas emerge from the deep.
Dolphins have more dignity. Sleepwalking helicopter
Gracefully deseased. Beauty makes the blind weep.
To describe a song in color is a protriot's symphony.
The light drips on closed eyelids, through holes and weathered sheets.
Curiosity stands up where strange faces hide and seek.
Warming the webs of electricity that dragnet the city; confusing power with duty, a place with trees like origami!
Monstrous theories dance with nightmares on the horizon.
Absolute equinox.
Listening to history in the present, planets approach the lupine walks.
We're suididal swans.
We're silence in throats we creep. You'll know us by the shaking ground, when ideas emerge from the deep.
We're suicidal swans.
We're silence in throats we creep. You'll know us by the shaking ground, when ideas emerge from the deep.
Offering flowers to the dirt. Like paralyzed dancers we deline and smile and flee.
But with years of past devotion, the crushing atmosphere is bitter-sweet.
In my waterfall, here, in Earth i'll slowly disappear.