Force-fed Engines

I know it's late
Too late in the day for this to make sense
But i've been dreaming of the waste
And I can't let it slip away
The clouds of dripping rain
Sailed by the warehouses and left again
Leaving soaking dismay

I know I know this
I could swear I know you
I've seen your face round here before
But what do I know?
I'm not even a big fan of snow
Though it's nice to get it I suppose
It's nice to get it I suppose

It's nice to get it I suppose

Can you hear the production line?
Tossing, turning, chugging along
Old crap, new crap, recycled crap
Deployed onto decaying traintracks
Take me to the surrounding districts
Environs cower at your engine's sticks
Envelopment in hyperbole
Transient straight into entropy

We, we just want the truth
The eddifying, stadium engulfing version of the truth
We, we just want the truth
The all singing , all dancing, industrial sized version of the truth
We, we just want the truth

Happiness is a warm chord
Happiness chimes in the cold abroad
Happiness is a warm chord
Happiness chimes in the cold abroad
Happiness is a warm chord
Happiness chimes in the cold abroad

-Thom