crumbling of the trees the leaves golden color
I do not know if this is a rumor
I'm trying to find the beauty of this world
the evening and lit candles
cigarette shaking in the hands of
my life, staggering wildly
vision unless tumbles
long, the mafia, the lack of love
You can only steal, and to be chosen
Among us, us, us

I'm going with light winds
bike comes full circle in the
I look at it all, fortunately
and I think that this world is a flight
space is away
clouds in the sky is crumbling
purse full of money, whether pipe or a bluff
You can only steal, and to be chosen

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