Homeostasis

A tiny moth

Wrapped in lungs

Got my armor

And I got my gun

I told you not to call me hun

She floats so soft

Inside his web

My spider lover

His useless head

I told you not to touch my bed

I stumble from

This empty room

You blow my brains

I’ll blow my cool

You know I can’t play by the rules

I feel so cold

The sweetest stare

My wool filled eyes

Your hollow care

A tiny game of truth or dare

I’m changing, I’m spinning

Uh, morphogenic

I’m webbing I’m morphing

Uh, morphogenic

I’m hungry, I’m thirsty

Uh, morphogenic

I’m tired, I’m wasting

Uh, morphogenic

Nostalghia - Homeostasis

/ You have this ability to find beauty in weird places /

Perhaps this is one of the strangest musical discoveries in all the time of endless searches and chance meetings. This is something prohibitively strange, something that attracts me with its mystery and alienates by its discrepancy with any canons. It is something familiar but at the same tine distorted. And this something does not leave my head, attracts me, and I try to understand and feel, endlessly enjoying this incredible track.
And this violin sounds so divinely and untimely...