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?