And so I firmly grip the handlebars and pull myself in
As I'm accelerating towards the apex of my ascent
And in attempting towards the tyranny of present pretense
Would it be possible to make transpire prior events?
The karma camel thinks that you can
The Marlboro Michelin Man
Attentive to the rest of the verse
The best and the worst are both possessed of the hurt
And I'm dead
In the middle of the little bus downtown
And so I try to make my way through to the front of the crowd
As I'm defiling society, I wonder aloud
If you could take a piece of history and change it around
Would it be evidence that something else had ever gone down?
The karma camel thinks that it might
The backer of the star-studded night
Enveloping the carpet I ride
Continue ahead to meet my drop of a bet
I'm alive!
In the middle of the little bus downtown
I'm alive!
On the surface 'til I return by drill underground
The silent sound plays over and over
Like a record of the past imprinted into a stone
Pre-durable but for the fact that it will shatter when thrown
From off the highest of the hills and into somebody's home
Until they rearrange the pieces, making it read as though
I'm alone
In the middle of the little bus downtown
I'm alone
On the surface 'til I return by drill underground
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