Son I'm inside the trees.
who will split up their skin?
menial, don't let the fumes bring you down.
martinet, if we are done here than we should get out. if 
I am dionysus, we'll teach the earth to dance:
until the forest tumbles, until the tulips are rooted in 
vacuums, sealed tight.
down filthy streets we spread our reach,
feeding on the sin.
and every breath we took we lied through our teeth. the 
sidewalk fissures with our toil
underneath your lives.
and every chance we got we tried to break free.
we're inside – so count up your skin with your ears.