|
Born loser. |
|
Born free, |
|
with two left feet. |
|
Born stupid. |
|
Born drunk. |
|
Born different, |
|
to my fellow earthlings. |
|
Born beneath that wondering star, |
|
though I dont feel alone, |
|
though I dont feel alone. |
|
Way out where the ocean meets oblivion. |
|
On a seat beside the pretty girl on the bus back home, |
|
on the bus back home. |
|
Born frightened, |
|
born scared, |
|
born in dispair. |
|
Born writer |
|
that time forgot. |
|
Born out of sin |
|
with my fellow robots. |
|
Swore I'd never get this far, |
|
though I won't give up hope, |
|
won't ever give up hope. |
|
Way out where the ocean meets oblivion. |
|
Drunken conversation, vicious undertone. |
|
When you past your stop three quarters of an hour ago, |
|
on a seat beside the pretty girl on the bus back home. |
|
I won't, I won't I wont, |
|
I won't feel alone, |
|
I won't feel alone. |
