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lyrics

cold to the touch,such a rush
jettison, soaring on
chemical cityways, remotes retain
neon smoke on fire, where deckers stray

selling time, echelons in overdrive
fixing glitches now a runner’s crime
electric storms siphoned into every home
every device and vessel feeding
rise again new rome

echo mirage is chambered
screen the field filled with cellular debris
in vocal dreams over lightwave screams
we do what we can, we’re only machines

everything is everyone’s any time we want
we’ve become terminal undone
lifelines measured in productivity
their different shapes and heat all the same to me

echo mirage is chambered
screen the field filled with cellular debris
in vocal dreams over lightwave screams
we do what we can, we’re only machines

world-wide blackouts
the underground on the surface now, skinned
over the net wherein

body, traffic lines shunting dissolution to solution
we are the living virus, last resorts are first within

echo mirage is chambered
screen the field filled with cellular debris
in vocal dreams over lightwave screams
we do what we can, we’re only machines

credits

from A Color for Fiction, released April 27, 2015

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