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letra de the predator - utopia now

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the sun set on the millenium,
and it didn’t mean a thing.
the morning was only an abstractum,

as was all that it would bring.

but the predator smells the wound that bleeds,
our possibilities are that on which it feeds.
and the dejection the frenzy breeds
is a mode of living.

the show flew by in the blink of an eye,
episodes without a theme.
windows collapsed and ambitions died
on the quest for episteme.

but the predator smells the wound that bleeds,
and our alacrity is that on which it feeds.
and the dejection the frenzy breeds
is a mode of living.

as the noose is tightening,
the booze is fighting off the truth,
at least for a second of hollow bliss.
pharos is crumbling,
pythia is mumbling,
and we are stumbling through the valley of hopelessness.

and so the predator smells the wound that bleeds,
and bitter apathy is the state it breeds,
and i hope this will never be your mode of living.
cause that’s my mode of living.

- utopia now

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