Moths by Lard
Spiral down the path
Of least resistance
Down a chute to a bed of nails
That becomes a trampoline
Bouncing lost souls
Emperor Ludwig is with us
From extreme to extreme
So is Doctor T
Technicolor stairs and spires
Fantasia trips and wires
5, 000 happy fingers
Ready to play our song
Vortex recedes
All I hear and see
Echoes of my face and fears
In a chamber of one way mirrors
Voices from the drain
Whisper like machines
Now that you're in our dimension
You'll never leave
To leash and harvest thee
Ahh, treasure gleams
Down, down to Bermuda Triangle
|
