Wic Wac Woe (Shooting Saucers for Target Practice)

No one came before them

The original gangsters

Took a leap of faith

Found nothing is fixed (perhaps)

Silent progression an its svelte curved finger

Starting our engines, we dived through the door

Roaring regression, salute of four fingers

Down is the price that we paid to stand up

Back to the bricks, carved in a niche

It never told us we’d have to buy shoes

Flashes of future opened a portal

A game made of blocking, where no one can lose

Born with our minds blown

We’ve sure kept our eyes on the prize

Even dumb, dark and pegged

We’ll still have our picture books

Our consciousness needs a hug and a kiss

Incinerate cyclic denial

Insinuate a means of escape and

Psychically break with your own form of exit

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