1. |
Hermit Kuppling
04:10
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The group is a machine. The hard exterior keeps it clean.
Behind the panels I find what’s man made, it’s them, pedalling on.
You are a series of forces as you go and I eat my own tail.
Talking to no one, empty lecture hall with our speaker
He’s been busy, planned a speech of great impotence.
Outside there’s a storm any further attendance is unplanned.
In from the rain comes an old man.
He only enters to escape his own turmoil.
Hardly even aware of the rain.
Your life’s been troubled. Your existence forlorn.
When you flew in the sky there was no wind in your wings.
But never complacent, one eye was on us.
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2. |
The Engine
03:12
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Longer spent trying, trying til trying’s bent.
Spent longer working out why the working’s got a why.
It’s not like I’m competent, circular motion.
The group is a machine, the hard exterior keeps it clean.
An opening signifying where being can
resume.
The skin peels easily from the creature’s back.
Bound to make good use for something after all.
Pluck the eyes carefully, they land soft below
What the creature felt, what did it know?
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