The news travels fast in this town
a soap opera in a bar room to be found
the windy city rumor mill will generate
if you have guts to spill
the walls are closing in while listening to me
When enemies start posing as friends
to keep you even closer in the end
the rooms turn to black
a kitchen knife is twisting in my back
the lights turn back on
there's no trace who's hunting me
within six degrees of separation
the perpetrator emerging from
the shadows of the hall
I watch the company I keep
that know nothing at all
six degrees of separation

SOUMETTRE LES CORRECTIONS