Here Hung Those Lips Testo

Let's not forget what we are
A spectacle of mystical dust
We're puppets to the beckoning hands,
Of paradigms and tedious men.
And I forget who I am
A child without any demands,
Just great aspirations to be
A slave of a lesser degree,
A hostage to be set free...will I be?
But when all you have is some experience
You'll crucify your
intellect and give meaning to another day
Because every day seems like the day before
And every thought capitulates in foretaste
Am I immune to my deficiency?
What is the point in these moralities?
Let's not forget what we are
A galaxy of incessant bizarre.
A burst of life from an unconscious abyss,
A mother's tongue and a Judas kiss.