Commuters Part 1

All of them, single parts, were designed to fit in abstract cells of a unique
building unorganised and obsolete, programmed to habit their aetheral void of
spleen paradoxal universe, infinite dead space with tents or shelves as walls
and ceilings _
Run, go to these places and meet the ones we’ll let down
Set our camp, we’re the hunters of their continuous space
Weapons of our own, new tactics to shar, we evolve in thir world that never
changes
Datas in highways, messengers and pages, we read through the lines that we’re
missing the faith
Trust our engine and drive the way that distances us from their ever setting
days
Bail
Run from the towns, the ones we were belonging to, go to these places and meet
the ones we’ll let down (x4)