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You stop to find your fortune hidden in the bay,
You just don't know what you're getting,
Yourself in,
And I'm so machiavellian,
Inside my head my problems they don't,
Hide away from me.

I know, I know,
We're not the same,
But, tell my mother that I'm sorry for the blame,
For what I did this year.

Your weekend is drifting on and on,
I just don't know if I can go on,
To get it,
And I'm so tired of my thoughts,
They drive my head in a mangled knot,
And I just want to begin this.

I know, I know,
We're not the same,
But, tell my mother that I'm sorry for the blame,
For what I did this year.

I know, I'm sorry...

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