Come to send, not condescend
Transcendental consequence
Is to transcend where we are
Who are we? Who we are
Trampled moss on your souls
Changes all you're a part
Seen it all, not at all
Can't defend fucked up man
Take me for a ride before we leave
Circumstance, clapping hands
Driving winds, happenstance
Off the track, in the mud
That's the moss in the aforementioned verse
Just a little time, before we leave
Stop light, plays its part
So I would say, you've got a part
What's your part? Who you are
You are who, who you are