The Volcano

No shelter from the scorching son
That's why I'm getting baked like a bun
With my tin-foil hat having half-handed epiphones
A wayward wingnut afflicted with symphonies
They say they have it all figured out
So I politely regrain from expressing my doubt
They always on some self-assured shit
I'm on that "wait, life's a trip though"
It keeps unfolding and unfolding
All around us with a precision
A precice kind of chaos that feels somehow like it was written
Maybe that feeling's just a construct inside my mind
But I'm willing to take that risk and adapt to whatever I find
With a reverence, a respect, a curiousity, and a cause
A particle in a world bound by natural laws
Outside in the rain having a brain-rave in the forest
Keeping it lit like a rap without a chorus

One day when they find my time capsule
The song inside will talk about how
We were all here when the vocano awoke
A golden age of science and art
The enlightenment, and I'm a part of it
We all are, and this is just the start of it
A rennaisance, a transformation
A free exchange, of inspiration
Moths evolved in a world
Without glass windows
And we narrowly escaped
The halls of extinction
What a mothafucking shame that woulda been
Love us or hate us, there's something about us
The future probably would've sucked without us



Credits
Writer(s): Bret Sullivan
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

Link