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HIDDEN LYRICS

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ARCHAEOLOGY
lyrics by Kevin Grant

Choke on this, you seasoned liars. This rhythm will not retire. Name the illness as it thrusts a wrench into your scemes. When you can't define the creature, you feel you should kill the creature. Keep no record of its features, murderer of dreams. Know the children of tomorrow won't be so consumed by sorrow they will not pick up a pencil; sketch you as you're seen. When the critic's criticized and swiftly stripped of his disguise, no balm will anaesthetize, no cleansing get him clean. All music used to be was bones on skin stretched across wood; no chords.