Words are being extracted out like
Whole milk made from mechanical utters
I make them mumbled up and muttered
From all across the dinner table
I had a point once but it tumbled wayward
Akin to possums lying on their backs
I should have more carefully cover my tracks
All circles presupposed they'll end where they begin
Nothing's gonna change my world
Nothing's gonna change my world
Nothing's gonna change my world
Nothing's gonna change my world