Air #17

Lyrics

Black hole in the midwest Four eyes Flat on our backs, bare skin Discovered an enchanted An understated manifesto In the stacks of a flooded library Picturesque vision By the same door [?] The word is a stone And an open sword And you can't stop this It's three stories high Loaded with electricity Air number thirteen Three stories high 9000 square feet And the fans are on fire And their water is on our floor Layers of dust and carbon An unsuspected surveillance We can compare mosquito bites And wish for vacations