|
When in the prop of the morning |
|
With the traffic and the canon lights |
|
On and on 'till the evening |
|
With its thick and orange light |
|
And now we nervous walk here |
|
The whole city tried to eat itself |
|
You kill some track to zero |
|
Working hard just to get yourself |
|
Sometimes I can't get it started |
|
Back from nothing |
|
Sometimes I can't get it started |
|
It is a mass production |
|
All the blank little minutes align |
|
On and on 'till the evening |
|
Where it's black and orange light |
|
And now we nervous walk here |
|
Swinging arms like satellites |
|
And now we're nervous walking |
|
Until the body won't sleep through the night |
|
Sometimes I can't get it started |
|
Back from nothing |
|
Sometimes I can't get it started |
|
Where we lies is a little burned |
|
Spinning around |
|
Don't they know that the hours move slow? |
|
And I can't get it started |
|
Where we lies is a little burned |
|
Spinning around |
|
Don't they know that the hours move slow? |
|
Slow? |
