| I’ve been waitin on the overdrive
|
| Slick and polished on the inside
|
| It ruins feeding time
|
| I’ll recover in an empty room
|
| In remission from a real mood
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| Sit down, fuck-up, and wait your turn
|
| Why can’t we hide, our secret lives?
|
| Why can’t we climb, this useless height?
|
| You hide your time, so well
|
| Small scars of love, and hate, and happiness
|
| You hide your scars, so well
|
| I’ll recover if you want me to
|
| Dig my way out of my black mood
|
| Wait for the sun to fade
|
| Why can’t we hide, our useless lives?
|
| You hide your time, so well
|
| Small scars of love, and hate, and happiness
|
| You hide your scars, so well
|
| You hide your time, so well
|
| Small scars of love, and hate, and happiness
|
| You hide your scars, so well
|
| And nothing matters anymore
|
| And nothing matters anymore
|
| And nothing matters anymore
|
| And nothing matters anymore
|
| And nothing matters anymore
|
| And nothing matters anymore
|
| (You…) And nothing matters anymore
|
| (Say…) And nothing matters anymore
|
| (Nothing…) And nothing matters anymore
|
| (You…) And nothing matters anymore
|
| (Say…) And nothing matters anymore
|
| (Nothing…) And nothing matters anymore |