Nubian Marty McFly...
A drum as a flux capacitor
Turning time into tempo
Turning time into tempo
toying with numbers
coding a languaje
made out of the thin air.
Changing air into the breathing pulse
of the ritual dance; even when nothing is holy.
A crazy hair bass player as Doc Emmeth Brown.
Sailing in this surreal city
Where cars don't fly, but prices do.
Where living is cheap, but being alive cost too much.
Where the only constant is the quality of the inequality
The fear feeding the silence, being silenced with noise.
An occasional gunshot. A never ending bleep of driving mad selfish kids
Too desperate, going nowhere.
Sailing in this surreal city
Where cars don't fly, but prices do.
Where living is cheap, but being alive cost too much.
Where the only constant is the quality of the inequality
The fear feeding the silence, being silenced with noise.
An occasional gunshot. A never ending bleep of driving mad selfish kids
Too desperate, going nowhere.
You don't feel to belong to this times
of conformity and dysfunctional kind of order
You don't know what's home, anymore...
You used to pray for many changes, and what?
Now you sold your faith for none.
You are trapped in every surreal timelapse you just can imagine,
or the ones you try to make us wonder, if we dare
of conformity and dysfunctional kind of order
You don't know what's home, anymore...
You used to pray for many changes, and what?
Now you sold your faith for none.
You are trapped in every surreal timelapse you just can imagine,
or the ones you try to make us wonder, if we dare
perhaps, don't be a chicken.
So, turn your drums into a DeLorean
And travel across the universes
One dream at a time.
Thru time, one song at once.
And travel across the universes
One dream at a time.
Thru time, one song at once.
daring to scape reality... dreaming a new one. in the surreal contradiction of being at none.
