[E = MC2] =

Flying through the sea of blues
we sing a soothing tune we always once knew...

Drifting by the sky collides
to die is why we fly abiding all, but why?

Roughened stones, set its own home
of affixiated, castrated bones

Dare we stare, fairly aware of scum
and rare treasure paired with everywhere?

Waking, taking, making tired kings start thinking,
scheming, deeming richer dreamings almost seemlessly

Creation through persevation, destruction
and recreation makes for a demonstration

Loud sounds surround the underground
as stirring damned abound, are wound around

Rapture, captured, there's no fractured ending after all?

Flying through the sea of blues
we sing a soothing tune we always once knew...