Track Insight / Lyrics
White tiles stretch in a frozen line,
Like a grid of a sterile pine.
No organic root or loam to find,
Just a circuit and a narrow mind.
An orange ring glows on the wall,
Waiting for a heavy seed to fall.
It is a bloom of neon gold,
A strange flower for the lens to hold.
Keep the gaze on the orange light,
Watching through the sterile white.
Sifting through the empty air,
Patient as a root's deep prayer.
No Monstereas climbing up the glass,
Only metal where the seconds pass.
A cold garden of a concrete floor,
Guarding a locked and heavy door.
Keep the gaze on the orange light,
Watching through the sterile white.
Sifting through the empty air,
Patient as a root's deep prayer.
The angle shifts with a tiny click,
The clock is slow but the pulse is quick.
Wait for the motion, wait for the sound,
On this barren and synthetic ground.
The lens is clear as a morning dew,
Searching for a shape or something new.
A silent witness in a plastic shell,
Counting the rings of a digital bell.
Like a seed in a winter sleep,
The secret is a promise it must keep.
Tiled horizons and a steady glare,
A lonely watcher in a vacant lair.
Keep the gaze on the orange light,
Watching through the sterile white.
Sifting through the empty air,
Patient as a root's deep prayer.
Just a lens and a glow.
Slow and steady we go.
