[Intro]

There’s not a thing that’s out of place

A flat line, round face

There’s nothing left that’s here to see

But matrices of human grief

There’s not a thing that’s out of place

A flat line, round face

[Verse]

Here find the creator, consumed by his work

Materials strip the subject of worth

No look of discomfort, just a matter of fact

An impersonal piece, don’t overreact

How did he get up there? Strung up by a plank

Straight into his stomach, his face drawn a blank

Just hanging there lifeless, blood rush to the head

Not quitе at the bottom, at least then hе could rest

[Break]

Then he could rest

“It’s only progressed”

We’re all caught in the web

So sublime and ultimate

[Verse]

Here find the creator, consumed by his work

Materials strip the subject of worth

No look of discomfort, just a matter of fact

An impersonal piece, don’t overreact

How did he get up there? Strung up by a plank

Straight into his stomach, his face drawn a blank

Just hanging there lifeless, blood rush to the head

Not quite at the bottom, at least then he could rest

[Outro]

Then he could rest

Then he could rest

Then he could rest

Then he could rest