Paroles de Mechanic Hippie

What are these penetrating colors Of this soundscaping noisefloor? Is this the old empty future or the black eletric nature? Colors circulate inside of O Ambient mind, the overdose (...and I was injected with silence) Are we all elastic worms In this red tekknostorm? Are there any energetic atoms In this paradoxical zone? Can the relapse of spasms Be the rhythm of this dance? Is this the neo-cultural spacetrip Or the perpetual trancegrip? Is the echo a shadow of presence Or a soundtrack for nonexistance Are the voices orchestral nightmares Or synonyms to black and white faces? Color circulate inside of O Anbient mind, the overdose (... and along came the spasms) Are we all elastic worms In this red tekknostorm? Are there any energetic atoms In this paradoxical zone?