Come to send, not condescend Transcendental consequence Is to transcend where we are Who are we? Who we are Trampled moss on your souls Changes all you're a part Seen it all, not at all Can't defend fucked up man Take me for a ride before we leave Circumstance, clapping hands Driving winds, happenstance Off the track, in the mud That's the moss in the aforementioned verse Just a little time, before we leave Stop light, plays its part So I would say, you've got a part What's your part? Who you are You are who, who you are