When machines hum your dreams
A plastic scene from in the magazines
I was never good at walking blindfolded
Whiskey themes, my tongue it wreaks
But blinded by the bottle and blinded by screams
Are two different things?
When lines cross on corners
From red to green the lights will bleed
When machines hum your dreams
I sift the sands of conflict, to hear the birds breathe
Two weeks and Im calling a retreat
So dont stone the sinner, stone the thief
In disbelief
Shell cry for me, Im weak
The souls of the sea watch and play make-believe
For a marine, a singing seed, to grow, to leave, to see