Let the contemplative end
I'm tied around a stick
Wondering about probability
And a succession of bad music...
Let the contemplative end
The next epoch
Is under construction
Oh no
I'll submit to the general image
When it's a moral one
But until then
I'll remain
I won't become
I'll see the sink hole
Of the contemplative end
And laugh
I'll see the Red Americans
And laugh
I don't need your advertisements
To capture my end
A social regress
Won't persuade my end
I'll rise above the sorrows
That you've created
Your contemplative end
Is my triumph