The Pilot's Crucifixion / Indian Oil - Circus Devils

The sun dries a wet flag

In the air

With mixed emotions

You see on our federal bulletin

A community of thick wiring

Ever so straight

Goes the path of an arrow

Straight through it

By whatever means anything

And never will

To the systems

Who giveth and taketh

In the closing times

For/to flesh reminders

About capsule hatching

Stiff drink memories

Make solid the previous conclusion

As to who’s driving this ship