come to send, not condescend
transcendental consequence
is to transcend where we are
who are we? who we are
trampled moss on your souls
changes all you’re a part
seen it all, not at all
can’t defend fucked up man
take me a for a ride before we leave…
circumstance, clapping hands
driving winds, happenstance
off the track, in the mud
that’s the moss in the aforementioned verse
just a little time, before we leave…
stop light plays its part
so i would say you’ve got a part
what’s your part? who you are
you are who, who you are