Ride

Lack-lustre vacuum magnetises the land, scopeless material in ruthless demand,
concrete
spectacle superficially grand, divine animation buried in sand.
Well rise from the ashes of stagnation, crystal warriors of damnation.
Nullified grafters manufactured from the womb, out of the repro-clinic into
household tomb.
Drag the nothing tiring through coal-dark underground, drive the wheels of iron
round and
round.
Repeat chorus
Scouring eyes sear through that book of lies, and to the truth, well our search
is dignified.
Whilst the yawny drone of physical machinery march in robot mode to terminal
destiny.
Microscopic observance, forsaken innerland, spiritual inertia, absorbed in blanc, well our
significance shant sink in their charade, Rcos through their drab pantomine I say were
gonna ride !