Select language to translate this lyric
A long line for low air
This inching to nowhere.
I hang my head and I spit,
The soon Iâm stepping on it.
This could be profound or the act of a serious clown.
I load that back of the head
The skullâs shape mirrors my dread.
I loathe that breath on my neck
I stack this humanoid.
Hay revolution, weâre not the solution
Weâre a million directors to climb on the short pass.
Weâre leaving an outline, itâs picking this behind
Sniffing his fingers without the slightest reaction at all.
A long line from nowhere
Itâs creeping along to nowhere.
The lands keep dancing reflect
The heart shape bone on this track
My toe nails jacked and chipped
The worldâs big poke nod.
Hay revolution, weâre not the solution
Weâre a million bad issues down under the surface.
Weâre leaving an outline, mistaking the sweet time,
The fall of the edge of the world is gonna be crazy to see.
Hear the cry of unfamiliar pain
Have a new born child.
Taking in the air, taking in the mother
Taking in the small circle of this place.
Maybe thereâs still time to hang out some new vibes,
To gossy up in greed the fall of a dream.
Maybe thereâs still time to put it all behind
To sort of recreate the origin of state
And quietly weâll go with fire in tin toe
Was it meant to be, Iâd love to hide or leave.