Pere Ubu - 20 Years in a Montana Missile Silo

Prison of the Senses

I don't know if it's a green or blue
I don't know if it's in love with you
That's the prism of the senses
Yeah, that's the prison of the senses

Something far away has come to me
I know the sum of the parts, the contingencies
I don't know if it's a picking at food
I would deny it, that I don't know what is true
I take the time to refine a better run out to sea
The attitude, opportunity knocks
That's the prism of the senses
Yeah, that's the prison of the senses

When the fray is too big to unwind
and all the rain is the color of time
You demand that the whatsits is you
I say, Oh lord, I knew
While I lean on the remnants of a fractured plan
I will learn all the regions on the side of a can
That's the prism of the senses
Yeah, that's the prison of the senses
That's the kingdom of the senses
Yeah, dowgie
Yeah, dowgie

Credits
Writer(s): Steven Mehlman, Darryl Boon, Robert Wheeler, Michele Temple, Keith Moline, Gary Siperko, David Thomas, Graham Dowdall
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Prison of the Senses

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