Plank I

[Intro] There’s not a thing that’s out of place A flat line, round face There’s nothing left that’s here to see But matrices of human grief There’s not a thing that’s out of place A flat line, round face [Verse] Here find the creator, consumed by his work Materials strip the subject of worth No look of discomfort, just a matter of fact An impersonal piece, don’t overreact How did he get up there? Strung up by a plank Straight into his stomach, his face drawn a blank Just hanging there lifeless, blood rush to the head Not quitе at the bottom, at least then hе could rest [Break] Then he could rest “It’s only progressed” We’re all caught in the web So sublime and ultimate [Verse] Here find the creator, consumed by his work Materials strip the subject of worth No look of discomfort, just a matter of fact An impersonal piece, don’t overreact How did he get up there? Strung up by a plank Straight into his stomach, his face drawn a blank Just hanging there lifeless, blood rush to the head Not quite at the bottom, at least then he could rest [Outro] Then he could rest Then he could rest Then he could rest Then he could rest