1. |
||||
|
We praise, we kneel, we repeat, we stand still,
We find beauty and paint it black
Until it’s down to nothing all over again,
We strip the skin from it till it’s only flesh and bones
And wonder why it’s just “defeat” that the banners read
Hung on every empty building we didn’t care for.
This circle you had drawn grew way too small for us,
Too small to hold us in.
So we got lost somewhere in the crowd
That’s trying so hard to be different,
We can’t hear our own excuses whispered desperately.
Tired of mourning till our throats go sore
While better days are knocking on the doors
Of (our) empty buildings we didn’t care for.
So, here’s to “blinders on”, a salute to “gone astray”,
So, here’s to never knowing what we’re for
Only what we trying to avoid.
No more waiting on the rooftops
With lights, sounds and banners
To guide the way for the “good life”
Just in case it ever makes its way.
Tonight they’ll know we’re here.
|
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2. |
||||
|
Oh bitterness, my dear, would you please marry me?
We’ll have children and we’ll name them “vermin” and “disease”
And become like those before us.
We met at the deathbed of ambition
And this is where it led us (to).
We’re the copy-cats of our own lives.
The lines were drawn way before me
And we’re/I’m just walking them.
Wiser men than me claim that the human existence takes place
Between what was and what will be,
So it’s not really there at all
And by looking around you can tell they’re right.
We’re doing nothing better, we just know how to wait it out.
Disappearing, the invisible generation without a name.
Class-war is over (and all the individuality money can buy won it)
Eternal boredom (that’s eating us alive).
We’re the best informed virgins there ever were.
|
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3. |
Pianoman (pt.2)
03:34
|
|||
|
We need more,
More memories, more dreams, more bottles;
The fire’s almost gone out,
So throw another penny in the wishing well
And poison down your throats.
Fate gave us plenty of time
And what did we do with it?
We blackmailed the pianoman
With pictures we took Of him and elderly women
Playing doctors and nurses,
We blackmailed him not to play us another song
But to pour us another drink,
For a song we could sing ourselves.
|
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