I sit in the red sand that spilled out of the statue's mouth
Morning under an orange sky with blue clouds
Machines that can fix themselves stand around
They don't know what they're talkin' 'bout, talkin' 'bout
Shades of blue echoed underneath
Mosaics of yellows, browns and greens
An oasis showed off its pond through the palms of its trees
In the hot spring, smiling people were singing
In composites of grey and pink
How a smoky voice tends to give away
The fiery way you think, yeah
My bugs have died but they chirp like they're still alive
