Coilguns Minkowski Manhattan Distance
How could it be simple - to find a way to tell impossible things - ?
Distances don't get smaller, maps never shrink,
May you wash them like bed sheets we won't be there in time for there is no one there waiting
We have hairs on our foreheads, arms and legs, teeth and ears
They'll stay healthy for years to come for we don't use them for real
We belong to the ever sleeping youth and won't wake up until we're gone from here
We vanish and reappear, counter-clockwise - we're magicians it's already been told,
We told you about the shuftan experiences well, who would have guessed that this process could hurt?
We freeze the time and eat the road, all of us float above the ground
Rockers and speakers, highway dreamers, octane drinkers,
The homewreckers we're employees of the month and we're so proud of our job
What are we good for - to export ourselves this far?
Are we earthians? Earthly pleasures of self-contemplation we'd love to watch now for we stay long after you're done
To each his own souvenir of epic memories we might not remember of
Tell us more about yourself, remind us of your name, feedback us,
Amplify the story and we will speak the truth,
Another invented language of our own you never heard of
Anyway, now's the time to start telling impossible things, the whole odyssey
As we don't forget that at the end of the day we might be closed
Close friends with a distance. We will keep our secret. You will keep your distance
