It Is As It Was

The ones who made us Are always looking for the ones who made them
The ones who contain us Are always looking for the ones who made them
Encounters of the third kind
Look, there’s a hanging I think the Callers a red? Wide?
Three tries, he won’t die
Beat him with stones so your father has some pride
The ones who made us Are always looking for the ones who made them
See, they want to contain us But they’re always looking for the ones
And I’m sorry that they didn’t tell you about the world
And I’m sorry, I’m sorry that they didn’t tell you about the world