Nanobotoma

With retrospectoscope in hand
It may seem obvious now
But remember I was dying at the time
And that can be quite distracting

Was I supposed to know they'd learn to fly on breath?
That my machines could escape the quarantine

These tiny machines, spreading through me, dividing me.
These tiny machines, spreading through me.
Supposed to be saving me.

The cancer hunters spread
I've not felt like this for years
Small victories heap, the pile becomes a turning tide

I don't mention the sparkle in the spit, that I flush down the sink.
I hide the silver fleck just
beneath the skin, I don't want to give in.

These tiny machines, spreading through me, dividing in me.
These tiny machines, spreading through me, dividing me.

Out of control, regulation disengaged.
No thought for the whole, you evolved, became worse than the disease.
I should have clamped down on the hope.
I can't stand the isolation. I need someone to hold.



Credits
Writer(s): Malcolm James Galloway, Mark Gordon Gatland
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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