Fighting the waves of sea dragonfly with the glow of a morning turn to see me behind that wall of ice cold rice in the film of my life. So I see the greys, the blues, the sky green filters rolling through the giants and roaring out the pipelines. Tear in the black pitch tar and blear the vision in the deer's headlights. So kill the engine and throw it in the junk yard, turn down the flower and plant the speaker, that's right, that's right, that's right.
