Drums On The Wheel

(альбом: Freedom Finger - 2020)

Do you read me?
Do you read me?
Do I need to reach through the TV?
Do I need to reach through the Ouija?
Houston I may have gone too Houdini
I'm too uneasy, I'm out of phace
And I'm orange tang and I'm powdered eggs
And my radio has been down for days
I just stand around and sound out the phrase
It go "do you read me?"
Shook up shoe to beanie
I'll look for the mall graffiti
Deep end of some hellhole
Come de-tech this tempo
I been feeding back in these headphones
Beating back a profound fear
Farewell to my breadcrumbs
Is anybody even out there?
I'm like out there in that true 3D
That new ether, that "do you read me?"
You don't read me, I'm barely a thing
Staring off, I'm too scared to blink
I might shrink some and I shrink more
Shrink past this pink dwarf
No sign of my polestar
But oh, up here it don't mean north
Deep space and no G-force
And more tumble out to some death bells
Some bleep bleep robot voice
Some red-light, some send help
Street meet some E.T. to come
Deep fry and all freak grease and re-hone
Reach out, reap what he sow
Jesus, do you read me?
We don't

And I play drums on the wheel
Whether feeling out of touch
Or outgunned in the field
Drums on the wheel

Bomb sites and blackouts
And fog lights and gas clouds
Jockey through vacuums
None of our flaps down, it's shocking
Shot off just one small part of some squadron
That ain't once chosen to abort shit
Now we've honed in on our problem
Non-stop until he stop and see
What kind of quadrant he got lost in
Do you read me, that option
When y'alls options are exhausted
I been dropped off in this mosh pit
Instead of locked into one orbit
Knock knock, fall back
Or this cockpit is my coffin
Boss levels I'm doomed to repeat
New dance called "do you read me?"
It evolved as if beyond the yonder mantra
What's none ping in my transponder
What's what the copy y'all plan to conjure
Been handed back to y'all unresponsive
Ten-hut now I'm in sync
Phone home but just ring and ring
Asteroids that leave marks
And black holes that eat stars
Green cheese and GPS
Be decked with detours
Fuel gauge around E street
And my beacons are all blinked out
I might slink up in that junk heap
You can't read in or pin down

And I play drums on the wheel
Whether feeling out of touch
Or outgunned in the field
Drums on the wheel

And I play drums on the wheel
Whether feeling out of touch
Or outgunned in the field
Drums on the wheel