Song | Merry-Go-Round-To-Hell |
Artist | Project Pitchfork |
Album | Kaskade |
Download | Image LRC TXT |
作词 : Jansen, Scheuber, Spilles | |
We're the children of the first-world | |
A livestock for consume and fuel for a machine | |
We think in circles directed by TV | |
We obey to numbers they tell us how to be | |
Round and round we go | |
To get a distance from what we know | |
We are the waste of this earth | |
Damned since our birth | |
This is a merry-go-round to hell | |
The keys got lost | |
It screams in our cell | |
More and more we seal | |
To get a distance from how we feel | |
We're locked into rooms | |
We burn for a machine | |
It feeds us but keeps us apart | |
Perception fixed into the past | |
We don't see a trap although it's vast | |
We move backwards into the future | |
Driven by needs we follow the order | |
If there is a free will still | |
We accidently kill | |
With all this distance | |
We see ourselves | |
Disconnected from any feeling | |
We are like the flies on the ceiling |
zuo ci : Jansen, Scheuber, Spilles | |
We' re the children of the firstworld | |
A livestock for consume and fuel for a machine | |
We think in circles directed by TV | |
We obey to numbers they tell us how to be | |
Round and round we go | |
To get a distance from what we know | |
We are the waste of this earth | |
Damned since our birth | |
This is a merrygoround to hell | |
The keys got lost | |
It screams in our cell | |
More and more we seal | |
To get a distance from how we feel | |
We' re locked into rooms | |
We burn for a machine | |
It feeds us but keeps us apart | |
Perception fixed into the past | |
We don' t see a trap although it' s vast | |
We move backwards into the future | |
Driven by needs we follow the order | |
If there is a free will still | |
We accidently kill | |
With all this distance | |
We see ourselves | |
Disconnected from any feeling | |
We are like the flies on the ceiling |
zuò cí : Jansen, Scheuber, Spilles | |
We' re the children of the firstworld | |
A livestock for consume and fuel for a machine | |
We think in circles directed by TV | |
We obey to numbers they tell us how to be | |
Round and round we go | |
To get a distance from what we know | |
We are the waste of this earth | |
Damned since our birth | |
This is a merrygoround to hell | |
The keys got lost | |
It screams in our cell | |
More and more we seal | |
To get a distance from how we feel | |
We' re locked into rooms | |
We burn for a machine | |
It feeds us but keeps us apart | |
Perception fixed into the past | |
We don' t see a trap although it' s vast | |
We move backwards into the future | |
Driven by needs we follow the order | |
If there is a free will still | |
We accidently kill | |
With all this distance | |
We see ourselves | |
Disconnected from any feeling | |
We are like the flies on the ceiling |