Search results for 'Cluster Red Sequence Survey'

The minds of quiet loafers
We sequence the cluster

Volcanos smoke the air
Without a single care
It's time to split the hair
With this musical chair

With all

And looked at that literate gorilla
While he sent down for whole buckets
Of fiery red angels
Oh no, no
They were not marked or damaged
But they might have been

a hangup on the telephone, you see?
That it's a one day, it's a survey
It's a cluster-fuck on the freeway, you see?
The odds are against me

But I try