Low Lyrics

The taste of life is out of reach
The inside digesting the grace to design and soon to expel
Intangible rests a movement
A scent for you to breed
A model to swallow for all generations
No more need to create
I am perfection
The supreme impure being you wish to become
The eye spy of our foul mother
Obvious as it is the same sphere

Today space and time stand against together
They're just unstable tools
No science anymore
Finally nobody's role to understand