Icy waters flow between us
In the shelf life shock in the morning
I see rivers split to deltas
And trickle into the ocean
With my bow and my arrow
I will aim towards my atlas
And where I hit, I'll go
And in my chosen location
I will croon a sorry sermon
And tune my bass to dead
Live volcanoes turn to craters
When their egos turn into spacedust
Teleport me from this vacuum
I've some contraband information
With my bow and my arrow
I will aim towards my atlas
And where I hit, I'll go
And in my chosen location
I will croon a sorry sermon
And tune my bass to dead
With my bow and my arrow
I will aim towards my atlas
And where I hit, I'll go
And in my given location
I will croon a sorry sermon
And tune my bass to dead

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