Come to send, not condescend.
Transcendental consequence.
Is to transcend where we are?
Who are we, who we are.
Trampled moss on your soul.
Changes all, you're apart.
Seen it all, not at all.
Can't defend, f___ed up, man.

Take me 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...
Stoplight 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.

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