Trippin' The Life Fantastic (Weatherbox)

I was born in a swampI was born with no clothes on I was born in a swamp I was born with no clothes on I broke off and became something breathing I was fast; there were packs I was leading I was born in a swamp I was born with no clothes on Tripped out the devil spoke to me Through my high fingertips Which were in the ground The same beneath you now Which means I'm alive Which means I'm not dead This god of your holy books I do not agree with him I will not be one more servant I will not bow to anything Not a puff of smoke or the flash of a turning mirror Let's talk about your real fears Like that you might actually be all alone No happy heavenly home To return to god, dispenser of judgmental pencil shavings He's got baggies full for you But I've got a planet packed with proof Oh, to understand You must spend time alone To comprehend You must spend time alone To be together We must spend time alone And I am the only thing that's controlling My functions, my habits, and hands And I'm alone in the vastness Hollow vacuum I take my chances And I am holding all my horses tight We've become breathlessly dark And we're coming up for light I have cobwebs for maps I'm walking in circles again I'm walking in circles again I'm walking in circles again I'm walking in circles again I have cobwebs for maps