The man 'cross the street he don't move a muscle though he's all covered in dust when constitutions of granite can't save the planet what's to become of us with a painted restraint i don't move a muscle though a turbine roars if the bathwater's clear and my ear's underwater it's a tolerant hum from the core sleep's beckoning from the depths from the cracks and from the crevices join the army of ghosts the murmurs in the mist that's when the powers of observation come to the periphery town and we'd carry their water we don't make a sound and after ganing our resignation they come through the chainlink fence your only enemy's panic your only chance is to start making sense sleep plunging into deeper debt inter bunkers and black minarets on a geyser of ink a morning voice fainy and yet and it sounds heroincredible sound that makes the headphones edible awake affiliated and indelible the man 'cross the street don't move a muscle though he's all covered in dust says constitutions of granite can't save the planet what's left to capitvate us what's left to captivate us what's left to capitvate us what's to become of us