What's Left in Store (feat. Daniel Dean & Spencer Woodley)

In distinction between the poles The garden flowers the mind Apprehensive to get too close For the barbs are sharpened and fine And it seems like the day's light falls prey to the moon And the markets are flooded with fool's gold In contradiction to pursuits of the brave Happiness is not my goal So what's left in store, the cowards say there is no more And the brave say it's for the glory of taking what's yours Sitting neatly on the fence where the grass is always so green And indecency is just a moral condition Of a perpetuated primal tradition Just another addition of what mathematicians theorize It's called the flow of time I don't quite understand how it carries me everywhere But apparently I float Apparently I float So what's left in store, the cowards say there is no more And the brave say it's for the glory of taking what's yours What I adore contentment I don't have to wish for In decision between the poles The garden flowers my mind And exhalation helps relieve the words In a meadow of pure sublime So what's left in store, the cowards say there is no more And the brave say it's for the glory of taking what's yours What I adore contentment I don't have to wish for