Synthesise

It's 11 am the Sun spins on itself
Try to get out of the bed
But your your body is reluctant
Is there a krysalis or a deep crevice?
I could hide and synthesise what’s happening

You make the bed, you wash the ashtrays all around
You erase traces that you will redraw at night
Is there a special song or a soft language?
Tell me how to synthesise what's interfering

Synthesise, synthesise
Synthesise synthesise

It's 11 am the Moon spins on it axis
Your body falls into bed
But something just stays awake
Is there a manœuvre or a wine bottle?
Just to help me synthesise and go to bed

Sort it out: The good, the bad
And who said what?
And he did that, so what?
Who’s right, who's the liar?
How to be impartial?
How find the middle?
What lasts, what dies? What expires?
What lies hidden and what is obvious?

The mind takes off, our guts anchor
The happy few, the many bitter
I hear the rumour, the rancour
The truth is all mixed up

In the visions the projections
Synthesise this information
Anaesthetise my affliction
Make the right decision
And have the right reaction
All this motion triggers my emotions
My conflicting ghosts are
Feeding my fiction

Synthesise, synthesise
Synthesise synthesise