Postgiro u200bu200bbuilding
Essential
Morbid Illusions
I am sitting in a café
And looking out the window
There is a man walking with a cane and a dog
But I only see him for a little while
For the next second in my inner gaze
He becomes a victim of rush hour traffic
He falls to the ground and breaks his neck
There was blood everywhere at the time he fell
I think I think for millions
I think I think about everything
I think I think about the reactions that
My doctor has called
Morbid illusions
Morbid illusions
A fighter races past
With bombs and grenades
And directly across the street stands a man with an ax
And beats wildly around him while he chats
Another tries his hand at hatch parking
But is exposed to the evening's
first chainsaw dismemberment
A face that sees me and glistens with grease
Suddenly turns white - One skeleton
I think I'm thinking for millions
I think I'm thinking about everything
I think I'm thinking about the reactions
My doctor has called
Morbid illusions
Morbid illusions
Then I pack up after another day
Filled with joy and pleasure
And outside everything is as before
It is not no blood and no one who dies
I take the tram home when it's ten o'clock
To reality from fantasy
A contentless relationship
And an eternal illusion
I think I think for millions
I think I think about everything
I think I think about the reactions
My doctor has called
Morbid illusions
Morbid illusions< br/>