I'm sure I didn't notice transitions It must have slipped by in my distractions When did the proof of purchase supersede the voyage Why do we glorify the audience Strike this age of witness Can't see the shoreline Endless narcissism Sinking in silence Not engaging only standing Fight the existentials Can't see the shoreline Means of our reduction Sinking in silence This ship of ill intentions Is this the natural transition? Or some collective policy This is the sound of my rejection This is the hope I can't erase All of the games can't be for nothing, can't be saved When will the cycles stop their motion What will remain our intent? Books of images and lessons of the dead, of the dead It sounds like some sad old cliché An oblivious truth of the disease Observation over action, no views no satisfaction Every adoration takes the lead Strike this age witness Can't see the shoreline Means of our reduction Sinking in silence This ship of ill intentions Is this the natural transition? Or some collective policy Is this the last de-evolution? Or fucking productivity? This is the sound of my rejection This is the hope I can't escape All of the games can't be forgotten All of the options can't be spent When the cycles stop their motion When the oceans start to recede Just remains of all projection in the sea