Lower Automation – Cattle Prod Hypochondriac lyrics

Would you be the same if this grip starts to fade?
When you're laid bare and north isn't so clear?
Because there's a fever in the arctic circle,
So I'll lock myself inside
Hunched over like an upside down cadaver.

There's this constant howl
Ballooning at the mercy of
These watchdogs
Announcing soma, prophetic infection.
We're spinning in the mud.

So let the northern lights disappear us.

Backseat interim,
This isn't what it was.
Just breathing it in.
Doctor, we've not got much time -
This isn't what it was.
Melting to a mold.

Bankrupted.
The courier's lost,
Outrunning frostbite.
Their rations can't reach me anymore.
Sweating by the junkyard fire.

Watched the birches burning,
Ignited on their own.
Felt the yellow surging in.
I kept my doors closed.

Backseat interim,
This isn't what it was.
Just breathing it in.
Doctor, we've not got much time -
This isn't what it was.
Melting to a mold -
And it won't separate.

Would you be the same if this grip starts to fade?
When you're laid bare and north isn't so clear?
Because there's a fever in the arctic circle,
So I'll lock us both inside
Hunched over like upside down cadavers.

Hang like upside down cadavers.