Ground Culture

The past is prologue.

As I descend into the deep

The honest fraud, claws at the back of my teeth

A wise man once said: "what is great in man

Is he's a bridge and not an end."

How weary I am of my good, and my bad.

If God is dead, can we still find some meaning in this?

We are more than an empty pattern

Ripe with shame and decay

The valley of the sleepers

Are drinking from a polluted stream

We are more than an empty pattern

We are more than shame and decay

Is the sky or the ground your captor?

Do you contemplate your destiny?

Is the sky or the ground the place that you're meant to be?

And if your heads in the clouds, what good could you be to me?

We are awake

These words, they won't fade away

They won't fade away

A clock without a craftsman

Hands spinning infinitely

Our gears will never grind to a halt or corrode away

We are more than an empty vessel walking a path of concrete

Let us work to create a flow state unhindered by the chains of belief

Morals are in the eyes of the beholder

Ground culture dictates every move you make

Every step you take their apparitions will beckon you

Don't follow suit

Wisdom exists in every truth they give

But in every lie there is a motive.

Is the sky or the ground the place that you're meant to be?

And if your heads in the clouds, what good could you be to me?

We are awake

These words, they won't fade away

They won't fade away

Unlearn to obey

A once calm pond is now a raging river

Shaping landscapes beyond

Forever changing seasons

In the years to come we hope to find a pattern

We can learn to love (we can learn to love)