Dust On Snow - Artax

To build an island without a flag
To break thrown out bread
To rise up above your own flame to start a fire

Imagination can't be killed, only corralled
New robot's the same old slave
Recently taught how to read
Imagine (Only) with the master's tongue
Our paranoia is free labor
Qe all work for the gun
Religion is table scraps
Projection is entertainment
Freedom as a new shoulder bag
The more protection, the richer they come
Climb onto its feet, close your eyes in its arms
Lose all your teeth biting into the sun
Declawed freedom free from finding its own value system
Code red made of zeroes and ones
The color of blood on a screen that is frozen
Can't think past the language that you are from
Colonialist in the machines, that we think we have under our thumb

Beating back the emptiness with a memory stick
With the hunted trunk of a back-hoe
With a zoo-piano carved back into tusk
Bootlegging depression
Running sadness like contraband
Third world pop
Watch but don't budge
(Fucked time)
Full moon over shit street in Gemini
Finger in the pie
Sell every apple
Harden every core
Low gloom over Lost st
Brewed in the monkey barrel
Hot off the pressed glass of a rot car
Trolling for prisoners, out on payroll
The cake drips down our thigh
Suicide stage left
All the dead dressed to die, all a mess fret to kill
Head spinning pink in the machine
Pile trash to the top
None left, care right, yeah plight, shake cans
Make maintenance, die acquaintances
Coke can, no fam, all sam, call uncle
Squat huddle, fumble god sporting hot com dotted sign for

Information with a bang, when napoleon takes the internet
Where Big waistband News breaks beef stew ground
Standing on its own gown like live bait and ratings
Mahogany nickels drizzle slow from flush slot machines mating
Perpetual friendly fire, up since the crack in (Of) poor
Everything of great importance gets the fanciest most recognizable bandages
Newscorp toilet paper, house hold cast
cell block name, playwright the pet cat reality
Print media stuck up a tree

Driving up church road in an all terrain hearse
Throwing mirrors at the shade
Selling every copy
Cross-heart-skiing up bad TV boulevard in a butler's vest
Jumping bridges at the break
Throw me off the be right back
After this
Word to the sponsor
I should sell pony in the ghetto
Sell every copy
Sell every copy
Deflating down Life-Float road
In a down comforter
Throwing pillows at the clock
Misspelling every copy
Slopping down Sell street in an inbox of cafeteria plates (And oil spill)
Throwing dodge balls at the c.e.o.
Sign every copy
Toe in the cake-batter swamp
Full Ego over Watch st
Sell every copy

Pennies see everything
Watch time like handcuff
Money has no eyes for art
Some were given blanks so none knew who started the game
A little scratch called itself cabbage and bread
Assigned PR to scabs, heard cash-registers when it bled
The pennies we squeeze over everything, everything drips low-shelf ice-cream
Drops care packages no one wants to eat, wonders bomb up like packaged bread
Trash gathers at its feet, the how it ends up in our mouth
No one wants to really see, bahh bahh crack house have you any dream

Written by:
Brad Hamers

Publisher:
Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid

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