Weatherbox
I was born in a swamp

I was born with no clothes on

I was born in a swamp

I was born with no clothes on

I broke off and became something breathing

I was fast; there were packs I was leading

I was born in a swamp

I was born with no clothes on

Tripped out the devil spoke to me

Through my high fingertips

Which were in the ground

The same beneath you now

Which means I'm alive

Which means I'm not dead

This god of your holy books I do not agree with him

I will not be one more servant

I will not bow to anything

Not a puff of smoke or the flash of a turning mirror

Let's talk about your real fears

Like that you might actually be all alone

No happy heavenly home

To return to god, dispenser of judgmental pencil shavings

He's got baggies full for you

But I've got a planet packed with proof

Oh, to understand

You must spend time alone

To comprehend

You must spend time alone

To be together

We must spend time alone

And I am the only thing that's controlling

My functions, my habits, and hands

And I'm alone in the vastness

Hollow vacuum

I take my chances

And I am holding all my horses tight

We've become breathlessly dark

And we're coming up for light

I have cobwebs for maps

I'm walking in circles again

I'm walking in circles again

I'm walking in circles again

I'm walking in circles again

I have cobwebs for maps

See also:
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