Molasses

Might not get, might not get any better Might not, might not get, might not get any better Might not, might not get, might not get any better Might not, might not get, might not get any better You the born hunter Relic with an armored heart Color of sulfur Banished to a single arc Porcelain smolder and don't forget you're state of the art Buried deep in the soil, selfless or daft It could be a compass, rare and so bountiful It could be the opposing opinion It could be the point of traction bound to all It could be the point of letting it go Running with my eyes closed Blinding the lens with the focus Running with my eyes closed Finding omens in the woodwork I see cold cold braille Mechanical and frail How do I tessellate, filter the rage You the born hunter Relic with an armored heart Color of sulfur Banished to a single arc Porcelain smolder and don't forget you're state of the art Buried deep in the soil, selfless or daft Might not get any better, get any better Oh better, better Might not get any better, get any better Oh better, better Better, better Better, better Better, better Better, better Better, better Better, better Better, better Better, better It could be a compass, rare and so bountiful It could be the opposing opinion It could be the point of traction bound to all It could be the point of letting it go