The Pseudo Science of Sheep

Sent down to the lagoon drinking fountain laid to rest at the echo pass over brilliant amounts of energy wasted picking out a costume instead of using someone else's skin A million days they've tasted blood in their mouths on their cheeks An idea's not an idiots dream until it's tangled with the weak the run dry lovers of stupendous languages fall to their feet Please pick your mouth up, it's drooping The sign in the sky was written for the one's in awe can't imagine what they saw maybe a dinged up laviathon pregnant with fashion sense maybe nothing at all