On Broken Wings - Six Hundred Cubic Centimeters Lyrics

the sound of a
primate. the offensive
of attempting
to create illusions
with goals of
appearing larger to
an enemy. but can
you dance like ingrid cold?
my arm hair stands
on end. i've got
some questions,
and i want them answered.
am i nothing more than an upright ape?
built in defenses,
heartbeat increases
an ape with shame,
and an ego to match