All we are is pieces moving back and forth, little cogs in a machine that churns out movement... In the days when you were young, a queer machine in robes of color with radiant pink and purple thoughts. It turns out movement just goes unnoticed. I've been waiting for a cross to grow out of the ground aligning with your bones. And so it goes just hold the kid over a fire. Show him hell. And so it goes just hold the kid over a fire. Now throw him in. In the days before your love, an oddity in a nervous summer with blatant anti social thoughts. It turns out movement just goes unnoticed. I've been waiting for a cross to grow. Across display of self righteous repose. And so it goes just hold the kid over a fire. Show him hell. And so it goes just hold the kid over a fire. Now throw him in. All we are is pieces moving back and forth, little cogs in a machine that churns out movement...