| Trust me
|
| Is the skyline sliced up into pieces and broken steel and mesh
|
| Or is the progress of process that’s a natural people quest
|
| Metal and the workings, dark and lurking in my mind
|
| Branded neon red and blue flashes
|
| The view from the flats is nice
|
| I see Alice in Wonderland
|
| I see malice in Sunderland
|
| Mouse to house, I am this land
|
| The were without, it’s Thumberland
|
| Smoke to a karma coma
|
| Jamaicans do yard and roamers
|
| Shake Bacardi’s and Coke and make me laugh and
|
| Trust me
|
| So much stuff and many people
|
| The future is not evil
|
| The future is not fish and it’s simple, it’s efficient
|
| Now that things are costing nothing
|
| Is any of it good?
|
| Come and love me, read my nothings
|
| Blogging river floods
|
| Dead plant planted on the window ledge
|
| Shadows dance, glint and blend
|
| Glance slow at the night outside
|
| I’m God in the game
|
| Sound rumbles in 5.1 round some corner to fight with guns
|
| Play God in games but nothing in
|
| Trust me
|
| Dub step, club sweat, come get rubbed red
|
| Play the playlist
|
| Play the playlist
|
| I see Alice in Wonderland
|
| I see malice in Sunderland
|
| House to house, I love this land
|
| The were without, it’s Thumberland
|
| Do the wrong thing, joke it right
|
| Span the longings and the fights
|
| For all the oil and the toil
|
| And the spoils of the royals
|
| We are nothing if not nice
|
| We are coughing if we are wise
|
| Roll me up like a leafy spliff
|
| Fuck that, roll me up and
|
| Trust me
|
| Why is there so much noise
|
| Reading info, buying toys
|
| We all fear of company
|
| But we are fierce anonymously
|
| Enter shit on the internet
|
| Clashing people, chatting evil
|
| But we are cheery social sorts
|
| With the pleasing photo forward
|
| Pass the love around and back to me
|
| Walking down a madman’s street
|
| The music in my ears is fleeting
|
| Struggle to shuffle to the same beat
|
| We are nothing if not nice
|
| We have a pretty buttered knife
|
| Is the skyline sliced up into pieces and broken steel and strife
|
| Anything you tell me
|
| Yes, yes, I will believe
|
| But again and I suspect
|
| Again and I will leave
|
| Slow burn a little heaven
|
| Roaming yearnings for devon
|
| Coburn '67
|
| Don’t work for them
|
| Trust me
|
| Dub step, earth run, red club sweat
|
| Put up chests and freeze, freeze
|
| Is the skyline sliced up into pieces and broken steel and mesh
|
| Or is the progress of process that’s a natural people quest |