This is a file in a cake. These are the silent stills I live to break.
Come stare longside of still as I sleep in poetic rooms named apathy, don?t need a shield to see ways to communicate, not a robot ringing bells for tower tapes. These are the moves we make to run in place in the mousetrap maze mistake. This is a file in a cake.
Just give me one more hour to waste let me drag along at this sloth like pace, can?t you see the wasted times on my face? Everybodys got a ball and chain for brains-- it?s just a matter of finding the key and then grinding the gears away. We make these choices everyday, sitting in our homes we will find a way to circle around in red dots over complacency, real sincerity is never far away.