Break thru the light, in shining rain
Little part of emptiness in momentary blaze
No look beyond tomorrow
Products of no need
Well packed shinkins
In the bottle of the screen
Procreation of the crop, of the fellows of no mark
They're dead before they get alive
Passing from dark to dark
Want become a crystal shine
Step closer to distant sun
No matter what way to go
Marching army of zeroes in paranormal vertigo
Celebration of the cult, of megastores figurines
Draff they call as superb vine, paper news as poetry
No look under cover
Hunting the vision of perfect life
Still high on the fiction
Still drunk with the scented lie
Want become a crystal shine
Step closer to distant sun
No matter what way to go
Marching army of zeroes in paranormal vertigo
Mean gang of the parasites
Emptiness of mental misery
Ode to one's perfection
Orgasmic tag-rag victory
