We get our drugs from our pharmacists.
Are we all getting ready for the moving day?
We have all become over-worried these days.
Or maybe we're just accepting it.
A hundred different pens are telling the same story.
A hundred different sheets on a hundred different floors.
This is our last chance to fuck it up.
We noticed that the stars are just stars
And that there's just nothing more to it.
I guess we already fucked it up big time.
Who will breathe for us?
Where did our talents go?