Plank I

[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