Good thieves of burning cars encirle poisened rivers minds and hearts,
Horses want to dance but find their wings are damaged, water damaged,
Gold is selling well but hurry nightly ocean rising fast,
A big man with a plan has got a storm a-coming, monster coming.

From Atlantis to interzone,
You start on the edge and you end on your own.
From Atlantis to interzone,
You start on the edge and you end on your own.

We're fragments of fiction.

Your dead man half alive who hangs from helping numbers one to five,
His ears pricked with the knife hears that the east are coming, west are coming,
From gravity's rainbow, the axis here is still unknown,
The children's faces glow,
The wasteland guides them, wasteland guides them.