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von Coilguns

Slowly get up to the bang, to the zero point
There′s such a thing as awards
Who shall we blame for our tired thorns
Of fractal indices, falling vapour Coloured minds on the cedar trails
Looking for faces, marking their places
Embodying their numbers and their dumb victories
We were bred for the brains of the bodyless craze

Now if this world is sound
We just need to slow it down
Now if this world is sound
We just need to slow it down
Now if this world is sound