MOTHERLODE

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Hickeys

3:32

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A house of one's is full of lungs
It has no chairs, no walls
There is no meaning, the time you're living
There is no room for us
There is time, there is time, but there's no future for us
There's some space, there's some space, but there's no room for us
No
No home
Motherlode

Motherlode, and it's done
I've been married to the future for so many years
'Cause I only love things that cannot be here
But I recognize I was better at being a kid
Now my body screams and screams
Promised Land was actually unsafety
Corruptibility, crudity, faulty
Not easy tricks nor meritocracy
Chronic life fatigue
Just wanna reach what I seek

In my glorious isolation
I'm illuminated
By the marvellous incandescence
Of my electrically charged nerves

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