We are sitting on a rock
Knowing that the world has turned into shit yes sir
We are burning what we have
We are playing that we don't know
We are in the middle of the heyday of a world
That still has a lot of ugly
The numbers say that
We are fine, so say the geniuses at CNN
And when you get closer to reality
Another commercial anesthetizes everything again
And in the end I'm turning into an animal
In another old man of those who get lost in the city
Without sleep or plan, bee in honeycomb
Nothing special, nothing special
We are putting our shirts on the line
Trying to tell them about the gray smile
We are trying to solve
Washing dishes for the merchant of our own idiocy
And a hole in the sky
It will remind us that reality
It will not negotiate with you or me
And in the end I will become an animal
In another old man of those who get lost in the city
Without a dream or plan, a bee in a honeycomb
Nothing special, nothing special
Dresses of nothing , nothing special
Nothing special, nothing special

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