We search the feckless fallen To appease the God inside With a counterpart so generous and kind.
Through holocaust and horror To a world of living night We leave the waking universe behind.
Of the empires of the mind.
Through subatomic marshes Through Saturn's climates harshest Past the eels and iron wheels Who would seek to rend the quanta from our bone.
We'll bring smoke and steel To the ether and vibration Through her green imagination But we'll wonder if it's real And if we could really be so far from home.
(Ruth, Violin? WTF RUTH.)
Our generals shall assemble To construct a living temple Whose nervous system circulates our lore.
With all our bells and spoils And we'll know our war is won. Though to her we'll seem a dream and nothing more.
And she'll always know deep down More from The Metasciences