Gin of our own marrow

Blood for our tears.
On a drive which no one steers.
Looking ahead to stall our fears.
Looking ahead through our years.

Sins of sorrows for our flesh.
Gin of our own marrow, so we confess.
Threshing graveyards, in our Godly creche.
Gin of our own marrow, so we confess.

Wastelands to work on for a career.
No core to nothing, apple, peach or pear.
World so far, despair so near.
Need no makeover, for a veneer.

My mind is easy, when there's no crowd.
My machine mind never wants to feel proud.
Lost in the din, that seemed so loud.
Now alone, with my machine cloud.

Sins of sorrows for our flesh.
Gin of our own marrow, so we confess.
Threshing graveyards, in our Godly creche.
Gin of our own marrow, so we confess.