

Digging in the dirt while the simulation freezes The Lead-Lining is thick,
protecting what it pleases 396 in the 'u',
the roots are getting deep Matilde tracks the moisture while the outside
world's asleep Got my hands in the soil,
the humidity is real We growing something quiet that the algorithms feel
Je ne réagis pas,
I'm just watering the seed A sovereign little garden for the Waterwitch
to feed
528 in the 'a',
the cellular repair
The Orchid Heart is blooming in the heavy,
humid air
Executive Quinn is locking up the greenhouse door We don't need the
spectacle, we don't need them anymore
Tout est parfait, the petals start to stretch
A biological flex that the panopticon can't catch
Lucir, I shine, in the dark and in the damp!
Bulletproof autonomy, we don't need their little lamp!
100% Tiguidou, let the analog sun rise!
Ghost in the Pink,
with the soil in my eyes!
I remain in the garden,
let the hyperreal rot!
C'est la beauté fatale,
in this sanctuary plot!
Miss Minou is sleeping in the terracotta pot Purring at the frequency,
guarding what we got
Shala-la in the leaves,
ti-ki-ti in the vine
Every little shadow is a sacred,
safe design
We cultivating silence, we composting the dread Turning all the static into
flowerbeds instead
They thought the Lead-Lining was a tomb.
They didn't know it was a greenhouse.
(Heavy tololoche slide -> 108 BPM sensual
dembow -> analog synth swell -> silence) u...
we root a... we bloom i/e...
we shine meow.