This is the time in space before we're there
I hoped to had the physics but none
Still giving up on Earth, ol' rocking chair
That mothball smell of why and left right here
But still can't this tired place or wide awake, or tired place
Generation of the ill to not be cured
My brother's rubbing paste on his face
Quibbler's waste, oh so tired of sheets
Though before all at once, some of twice
Heard heart's timer riddle
I don't know how to say I'll lead you there
Admitting peril was the key before
We're all such me solipsism millionaires
How would I like these words to save your life
But what would you need saving fro or maybe it's our android art?
The wipe of household dust to make a sneeze
Ears open for the next one
Older brother states, sis' will see its crumbling
Nor more mouth with paste, stabled horses will ride
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