Revenge Of The Fern by Themselves
Revenge Of The Fern lyrics
revenge of the fern...
flint to the stone tool to the wheel to the lever to
the inclined plane.
click o.k.
it's hurting your babies.
fused complete compliance the capital circuit
disease...
who is it...
a simple question assumes the bounty and temptation of
bait...
does this hurt
screeches the chattering churn of persephone's fate
determining machine. as its humongous simple scrapes
at large wowing chronological mommies prize
and pain mates with heavy heaving monstrosity,
a streamlined sky-stealing monstrosity
charged nectars of steel flow 'til babies interlocked
with babies
such harmony...pointed cold touching harmony of
mechanism.
mechanism beats massaging the air and walls between it
shudder and split.
things are getting big and louder, drowning out fainter
out an after glow of pale travesty becomes us...
a wish to be part of gears...made of parts...
soaring through the clanging pattern of gears...
so precise and metal and meddle a working construct in
destiny.
the foreseeable right now...pushing for
tangible...unhinged...
pushing for fuel vital to bolts...
our fuels mark a seperation of water and sky...
energy is both...fuel and seperate existed until
we...then its...
maintained and updated a brilliant portrayal of
likeness
in all the sure shock of good wiring
and bad example...crisp blue grey example.
sputters static the orderly structure of so solid
choking and gasping with monotonous nauseating
similarty...it depends.
hammered artificial byefficience as esoteric and
obsolete
as the rickety behemoth it runs to keep ticking.
killer conventional kills house plants,
hurts ourselves with rough drafts for a 90's orbit and
powers refinement...a killer's refind...
watch your hand, the motorised lifestyle likes to bite
and grind.
aren't we daring or dumb, dumb enough to plug in bread
and water,
watch the young thing suck volts and chew snapping
binary jaws,
it hates our codes with technical difficulty
so what's hunted used to flick the switch and now
the instruction manual is rusty and reads funny
outdated seems to have exchanged in the function
shutting valves, closer, fixing leaks closer repairing
closer still
creating robotic tears the tender tummy of human just
prey it never mutilates the sensuous and perfect
earthen vagina
we dug the iron from...
state of the art more like desire of the kings
and their smoldering less
everything's a tooth when flesh is moist flower petal
soft,
so soft all is lost in the swift inactionable gutting
of discovery...
the things are getting smarter, we are getting closer,
are getting sharper, we're there.
will we do nothing and have it no other way...
science lives, skylines crushing our chest...
someone stop the curbs from bleeding,
last monkey born out of captivity now dies...
an alarm does not go off and a moment is not spared...
click return is hit...extinction...
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