WORDS

BUNKERPOP

I touch the mirror and go inwards
as if an illusion optical
on an Escher stair
my feet won’t take me anywhere

Groove It Out – Groove it out – Groove It Out
I’ve got to got to got to

Are we moving or are we still?
I’d use my limbs but they don’t seem to want to
and nothing feels right
acting out in a fugue style

Another world slips by
in every filament of a strip light
it flickers on and on and off and on
kaleidoscope I’m inside

Groove It Out – Groove it out – Groove It Out
I’ve got to got to got to

Are we moving or are we still?
I’d use my limbs but they don’t seem to want to
and nothing feels right
acting out in a fugue style

In the empty room
in the wilderness
is a dying light ever since I

In the empty room
in the dying light
felt a wilderness inside

In the wilderness
in the dying light
is an empty room
in an empty room
I Groove It Out

(in the empty room
is a wilderness
groove it out
got to got to got to)

Are we moving or are we still?
I’d use my limbs but they don’t seem to want to
and nothing feels right
acting out in a fugue style