|
You're working the nightshift |
|
A big metal machine |
|
Until you're long dead and green |
|
And a ghost in the steam |
|
You're working the nightshift |
|
Your left eye is black |
|
And I hate him for that |
|
I hate him for that |
|
You could spend your whole life |
|
Wrapped around a finger |
|
And some may say it's pretty rich |
|
Coming from me |
|
But it seems this time |
|
Cloud nine of divine silver |
|
Has a grey lining |
|
You're working the nightshift |
|
And I suck a bottle of Becks |
|
Watching a car chase a T-Rex |
|
Waiting for your text |
|
You're working the nightshift |
|
In a conveyor belt maze |
|
Will my words be erased |
|
When you're working the days? |
|
You could spend your whole life |
|
Wrapped around a finger |
|
And some may say it's ****ing rich |
|
Coming from me |
|
But it seems this time |
|
Cloud nine of divine silver |
|
Has a grey lining |
