There is not much left to hide I'm wrong about everything You point the finger at me I don't owe you anything
You slam the door in my face Instead of wondering why How is it that I feel fine And I don't know who to trust
I'm just a ghost in a mass Not even trying to stand out Give me enough rope and I Will hang myself and my lies
I'm just a whisper of smoke No second chance for a despised Go and sell some other lies More futures to advertise
I learnt to write and to read I learnt to avoid obstacles To walk the dead-line alone And to cohabit with pain
No one hears and no one sees My moves, my hysterical thoughts What I wrote on my sheets And what I tried to tell you
My sharp projection on you Isn't good as it seems Wearisome theraphy To figure out what is real The fear of loosing control Annihilates the way out Too much sex, too much drugs Broken glasses around Lusting the vicious white pills That sent us up to the sky Struggling hard through the nights Shuffling fast through the days
I learnt to sell tragedies To feel guilty and to accept The tragic consequences For everything I've doneTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
