Mao

I've been there before Come around I've been here before you came out of the morning light In the making of my Making of my mother's eye Look it up I was old enough to never ask why While I owned up to my nostalgia for war You stayed blind Looking for more Mao Stationed in the corner right on Making your own rules Standing on the tall grass where projections lie Sad how projections lie The future belongs to crowds And they belong to anger And it turns into fever And fever turns to dust Mao I've made a game of this Here's yours