Текст песни To Worship Nothing - Anton Sword

I'm ready to give up the game
Between the bank books and the rhymes
The cobblestones under my feet stare
A sea of lidless eyes
As I climb the stairs out of the ancient station
Each step takes away one and a half

Folding the spaces away
Between an atom and a draft
Taking a stand at the fair
Separating art from craft
Is there a point from which to worship nothing
Every gift has its chains

Another Friday night and I watch the yellow cabs flying out of the park like germs
I'm going back to the lab to find the antidote to the poison pill swallowed by the bookworms
Well at least that's firm

I'm ready to cash out and drive
To the blank Nebraska plain
Park in a field and stare
At the old sun rise again
Every gift has its chains, do the math
We tried creating a world rearranged, what a laugh

Seeing the structure of time
But my timing's always off
Planning the campaign alone
No relation to the earth
Here is the point from which to worship nothing
You'll never hear me complain
Here is the point where we can worship nothing
Every gift has its chains
Here is the point where we can worship nothing
Every gift has its chains