It's the demolition derby It's the sport of the hunt Proud tribe in full war-dance It's the slow smile that the bully gives the runt It's the force of inertia It's the lack of constraint It's the children out playing in the rock garden All dolled-up in black hats and war paint Sometimes it feels like bars of steel I cannot bend with my hands Oh-oh – I worry too much Somebody told me that I worry too much Oh-oh – I worry too much Somebody told me that I worry too much It's these sandpaper eyes It's the way they rub the lustre from what is seen It's the way we tell ourselves that all these things are normal Till we can't remember what we mean It's the flicker of our flames It's the friction born of living It's the way we beat a hot retreat And heave our smoking guns into the river Sometimes it feels like bars of steel I cannot bend with my hands Oh-oh – I worry too much Somebody told me that I worry too much Oh-oh – I worry too much Somebody told me that I worry too much It's the quick-step march of history The vanity of nations It's the way there'll be no muffled drums To mark the passage of my generation It's the children of my children It's the lambs born in innocence It's wondering if the good I know Will last to be seen by the eyes of the little ones Sometimes it feels like bars of steel I cannot bend with my hands Oh-oh – I worry too much Somebody told me that I worry too much Oh-oh – I worry too much Somebody told me that I worry too muchTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
