Cannot feel guilty as the
The robot returns when the
when obscurity is learned
the surface and the radar
To make the earth scarred
There's no escape from the lateness
When the bridge breaks the grate
To the futile fate of greatness
Investigation over when beginning
Whether losing or winning
While I'm chilling like a villain
In this prism that I'm stealing
I may as well yell from hell
With a soulful smell, well,
Ghost robot, I am not a thing
From the mountaintops to the
You're free when you're dead to all
From the hipster hot freaks and emo rock
geeks to liberal or conservative political creeps
and self -righteous green
beats keeping protesters,
Street investors, sanctimonious confessors,
a combined worthiness no greater or lesser than the faceless,
restless, skid row blessers.
I'm brown and back to blackness
I've had my best caresses
Of the great white beyond which
then all the bullshit is through
I am not a thing, from the mountaintops to the jagged rocks I sing,
don't make no noise, you're free when you're dead, to all fear and joy,
to extend, no more to defend,
Now you must get in, not due to your sin,