Hawkwind
Heads
Limits of the infiniteHave Never been definedA spirit lies in atrophyIn a state too late to unwindTrophies on the back shelvesProcreating all our raceIdeas of our fantasiesOn which all things are basedCollecting every prospectRunning through your testsWith manikin expressionsThey end up like the restIn glass booths they're wiredWith needles in their fleshThey're pickled for posterityAnd eternally refreshedSo link yourself to othersTalk yourself to sleepIt's all so superficialNo use for you to weep (seven times)So place your trust in scienceFor it has come so farWell, Necromancy lives foreverPreserved within a jar [Repeat: x6]
From Letras Mania