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