Spires! Spires! Twisting smoke rings from great furnace fires
Hover freighters float black bodybags thru exhaust of
Bottomless cremation pyres
It gets hard to breathe
Soylent breakfast, prime cuts of dogmeat
Towers, skyscrapers enveloped in violet vapors
From the great green city, with its beelines of air traffik
Smokestacks stand tall over the
Smell of fossil production
To know not what the body needs
Taste of phosphorous, cold protein supplement
It gets hard to breathe
Burning Earth
Our seven sisters give eternal byrth
To a zygote floating in snow-speckled black placenta
A grain of sand that thinks a marble of its girth
To know not what the body needs
Lackluster taste of wheatcard and water pills
It gets hard to breathe
Ecumenopolis Video (MV)
Blankscreen - Ecumenopolis Lyrics
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Spires! Spires! Twisting smoke rings from great furnace fires
Hover freighters float black bodybags thru exhaust of
Bottomless cremation pyres
It gets hard to breathe
Soylent breakfast, prime cuts of dogmeat
Towers, skyscrapers enveloped in violet vapors
From the great green city, with its beelines of air traffik
Smokestacks stand tall over the
Smell of fossil production
To know not what the body needs
Taste of phosphorous, cold protein supplement
It gets hard to breathe
Burning Earth
Our seven sisters give eternal byrth
To a zygote floating in snow-speckled black placenta
A grain of sand that thinks a marble of its girth
To know not what the body needs
Lackluster taste of wheatcard and water pills
It gets hard to breathe
Hover freighters float black bodybags thru exhaust of
Bottomless cremation pyres
It gets hard to breathe
Soylent breakfast, prime cuts of dogmeat
Towers, skyscrapers enveloped in violet vapors
From the great green city, with its beelines of air traffik
Smokestacks stand tall over the
Smell of fossil production
To know not what the body needs
Taste of phosphorous, cold protein supplement
It gets hard to breathe
Burning Earth
Our seven sisters give eternal byrth
To a zygote floating in snow-speckled black placenta
A grain of sand that thinks a marble of its girth
To know not what the body needs
Lackluster taste of wheatcard and water pills
It gets hard to breathe
Writer: Evan Moore
Copyright: Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid
Copyright: Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid