In this rhythmic blood
Our master is the novice
Our cynics the obvious blind pioneers
No owls in the prison
The shunned holy vision
I shed from perception in patterns of tears
The eminent pleasure in every cadaver
Is twin with the soul and alive in the skin
Adrift from the barrel, our faculties narrow
A memory of closure that never have been
Yeah
Open the vessel
That side of the mask, your membranes that swell
In the battles of ill
Dance to the tune of the atoms' parading
For now is the instant or it never will
In this rhythmic blood
Our master is the novice
Our cynics the obvious blind pioneers
No owls in the prison
The shunned holy vision
I shed from perception in patterns of tears
Identical form in the swing of the scale
Have our fleshes in limbs and our hazardous health
The spiritual poverty threatens our effigy
Let us bleed to the rhythm of penniless wealth
Yeah
Miniature burrows
Eternally clean
Through the birth, through the body
The milk and the mind
The match we contained
And it's slipping machines
Afloat in a star of the rhythms of blood
In this rhythmic blood
Our master is the novice
Our cynics the obvious blind pioneers
No owls in the prison
The shunned holy visions
I shed from perception in patterns of tears