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• Artiste: Sleeping Years (The)
• Titre: The Shape of Things to Come
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There's no falling back, It's a precision drive for common goals and hollow drones With the sound of motion in our skulls. I try to stop. I try to stop, Try to find myself in something But it just flickers out. I remember shapes, I remember... We compass like old hands, Our communication sounds through knocks and needling, This jostling for ground, But movement must be kept for as long as we are charged We'll never fear the shape of things to come. I am built to cope; Everything that I am has been honed, And I never dream, I just close my eyes and static comes.