Lyrics
(He invites the storm.
He lives by instinct,
with fears that are not fears,
but prickles of ecstacy.)
This code is cracked!
I don't expect
whatever I spat out to stick
awash in the signs,
sick from the lack.
Spliced in,
spliced in
second-hand words and screen for skin.
Forcing out sounds,
facing outside
again.
Reified and refined,
blurring every line.
Just want a way not to be what gets sold to me.
FF=66 explains you're sick.
Spins on the axis od promise
and lick lack luck
reveals all tricks.
