Break out your atlas.
Let's trace the route we'll take
to poisoning our daughters.
We'll sail through the décor
of vaccinated fields
trailed with star light.
We're bringing up scar lines
across the face.

Manufactured product,
manufactured waste.
Hold back in Antiquity
until I find my place.
It's holding out,
subterranean collapse.
These screams are secondary;
news anchor says that they're awake.

We're raising ourselves
to gain control.
Who has control?
It's tearing me apart
to serve them distaste,
handing over your classified debates.

The totals of digging your way out.
Claw your way between the fabric.
Sailing with your lungs full,
ropes tied tight around my legs.

The atlas burned your reason.
Seven sisters locked in place.
Figurines of conflicting histories face.
Nobody to tie us down,
nobody to chase.

Manufactured product,
manufactured waste.
Hold back in Antiquity
until I find my place.
It's holding out,
subterranean collapse.
These screams are secondary;
news anchor says that they're awake.


Lyrics submitted by eyegouger

Seven Sisters song meanings
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