Brazil Canon Lyrics

sponsored links

Alone in the city of millions
He walks on the left
Against the even flow of traffic
Outwardly pushing but inwardly pulling
Wanting to connect to the source
He's too afraid to ask certains dimensions of himself to want
He is the monolith...
Like limbs of a dismembered poet
Rippling veins unhuman crooked through the scars
Yet above the internal wounds that never seem to knit completely
A world made of grey matter housing the city he calls his own
Standing on a ledge, he surveys the land between his feet and the horizon
Heat-Seeking projectile lines and run through the flame retardant dress of the mob
And with the even past of rolling steam in time...
He is the monolith...
They will break
They will burn
But if feels honest
It feels honest...


Artists A to Z: