Testo Machines Yonder

Bayou bone dead and gone
Pray it in place, a palm full of gold
And make it a lie.

The madness of we lay thick in the steam
The swamp entraps yet nurtures the trees.

Bayou bone dead and gone And wild cayotes lay paw to the ground
Pray us in place a palm full of gold
And bury the precious moments untold

And make it a lie.

I stare off into a blur of squares of colors,
Machines yonder, full of lights
Oh the lights!
Conveying the motion of things.

The shapes of sound are relative to me - O' the shapes!
And whether I blanket or encase the shapes, encase, in case...

My balance, I stand, is not only my feet But the lights and the colors and the shadows I see
Uh oh! Make it a lie...

Make it alive.