No flow of information
No pattern recognition
Underneath the blackened stars
The purple dawn of the past is ours
Colors wash white as the light starts
Breaking us down to our base parts
Spectrum flash like a rheostat
Remote beams sweep telepathic maps
Communion
Communion
I still hear a crazy wind in my head
Don't know if I'm alive or dead
I still hear a song that drugs my soul
Like a poison that works soft and slow
But I feel the breeze, the leaves breathe
The spirits seeks communion
The stars sway, the moon swoons
The spirits seeks communion
Communion
Communion