Mother Wants Me To Get A Haircut

And what comes next?
A chance to save ourselves?

Imagine magma encrusted in rock,
And on the surface of this world, all eyes are on the clock
Cos all our empires, our philosophies, our practiced faiths,

Our revolutions

Our proud sciences, are but a flicker in,
One day of the lives of the stars.

We can breathe in space, they just don't want us to escape.
We can breathe in space, they just don't want us to escape.

And what comes next? (The constellations yes, all 88 of them)

A chance to save ourselves? (Like the G8; they meet to procrastinate)

Greetings.

We are an infant species,
Crawling into our own, premature decline

The north star, is chairing the meeting,
He knows we're spoilt and he's sniggering at our histories.

We can breathe in space, they just don't want us to escape.
We can breathe in space, they just don't want us to escape.

The hollow proposals mean we'll migrate,
But they'll bleed us dry until that 11th hour
And when dawn breaks i'll sit
And stagnate with this metric tonne on your shoulders,

How do you cope?

We are an infant species,
Crawling, into our own, premature decline

The north star is chairing the meeting,
He knows we're spoilt and he's sniggering at our histories.

Lets prove the stars wrong!
We've got to do this!
I find it hard to believe that we are alone...






We can breath in space, The just don't want us to escape - Enter Shikari

Song of the moment, was at a friends house today, and this is me, maybe I need a haircut?