Everything's always spinning; stopping is
for the end
pending an apocalypse or hieroglyphics
forced to bend out of the stone
and bone of ancient times
rewinding and fast forwarding
boarding chorus' of broken wings
it spins.
Missing the days the room moves
up and down
and round in circles
dolls speaking through skinless skulls
pointing to stars that never spun
running so far behind the speed of light
the dolls have us staring at a nothing
passing round a mirror
taking turns to move your world.
Purple sparks
burn through carpets
lighting buildings spinning mountains
under fountains planted by the dolls
you're not watching
'cause everything's always spinning.
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