Western Centipede

In 90,000,000 miles of daylight
You're a centipede on the run
Looking for one square inch of your shadow
Wow, how will you hide from
What's not prescribed by the company
Through 500 years of service

On a carousel can you lose it?
On a racing track can you run it back?
To what would be your advantage now?
And if it speaks believe
Let man receive your energy
And drained by the wait for others

Meeting the right people
Keeping the right plan
You're only gloating
Promoting the fight

An answer / a minor step
Get just enough from wanting
The trap may be waiting
But you've put enough away

Still not enough hands nor time of day
Though in your sleep you fly
Still when you fall downward
If you hit the ground you die
Hit the ground you die
Hit the ground you die
Hit the ground you die...