I can leave my tank
When it's not in the yard
But I don't know yet what to do with it
Love
My eyes are greedy
My heart is dead
And on the ground, alone, I lament
The sky is empty
The fucking pay
The fucking tank
We're still circling around 'the same patent
Stomach pain
You say that happiness is in the pocket
The one who starts his truck from afar
Either he dies or well bites the hook
More and more, bigger and bigger
When we've all eaten up the wool we have on our backs
We'll have babies ©beautiful from floor to ceiling
From the cellar to the attic but no reason to exist
No reason to exist

SUBMIT CORRECTIONS