[intro] The world. [verse] Spinning, whirlpools of stars, comets. Conjuring, thrown clouds of sand, creating the universe isn’t easy. You get interrupted by the prayers. The players. The prayers and sayers that don’t shut up, up, up! A net of gauze, degaussing, saucers saucing and POW! There it is. [chorus] The painters palette spilled out, Lit, shining, divining. The constellations! Bold inclinations! One Gods creations! THIS UNIVERSE HAS BEEN CREATED! THIS UNIVERSE HAS BEEN GESTATED! THIS UNIVERSE HAS BEEN LIBERATED! GOOOOOOO! [verse] The galaxy of your life is a twelve round fight contested by pigmies. Furtive, restless, flames and flares, Who never wears, Corduroy Travis left. Event horizon. Black hole. Inertia. Momentum. The conversation of momentum. [chorus] The painters palette spilled out, Lit, shining, divining. The constellations! Bold inclinations! One Gods creations! THIS UNIVERSE HAS BEEN CREATED! THIS UNIVERSE HAS BEEN GESTATED! THIS UNIVERSE HAS BEEN LIBERATED! GOOOOOOO! [solo] [bridge] Creation is messy. A God was once an eighth grader in art class with tempura paints. They made posters for prom. Nom nom nom. The universe is beautiful. Creation is beautiful. Only people are ugly. [outro] The painters palette spilled out, Lit, shining, divining. The constellations! Bold inclinations! One Gods creations! THIS UNIVERSE HAS BEEN CREATED! THIS UNIVERSE HAS BEEN GESTATED! THIS UNIVERSE HAS BEEN LIBERATED! GOOOOOOO!
