we’re still sowing in the finite fields/ we’re so content to live under a curse
we’re still fabricating paradise/ with the thorns, with the flies and dirt

hold out for the upgrade, man/ let go of your sinking sand
this bent world’s not the promised land/ this feeble frame’s not meant to stand

this is just the flesh it’s just the blood/ it’s really not, it’s not that tough
the bruised the fragile, cut up, scratched and scarred
it’s just the feeble – just the feeble stuff

Lyrics submitted by JackH83

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