Beneath the Soil Testo

(lay down, take the blood out of your skin)

on the subject of this decline
this wasn't exactly what I had in mind
riding on the last legs of every lie
looking for the truth until it struck me blind

but every year
we waste with searching
for a higher purpose than what we've been given

trapped in the suburbs I'm pining for the air
take me back to Washington square
looking for escape roots like mining for oil
I only find symmetry beneath the soil