Straight is the line, the path is clearI'm out of
burn your illusion in agonythe meadow of death is your
I buy the world with my plastic cashI get things
Imagine all, all our livesBattlefields of broken dreamsStill waiting for,
in times when life is so absurdnobody plays the curein
Land in flight, quicker creatures in the grindWith hold their
the environment strangles the weakradiation kills the strongfade away in
Born at the Indian Ganges sidedeath laughs, because your mum's
What machinery can create forcing bodies to the rhythmBe a
Stand up - tic tic tocThe clock is on the
I drown while I keep burning insideMy emptiness is larger
problems which come depressive and slowwill they tell us the
flames of hate - gates of lovethe good decays when
Life preferred to strongerWhen wings gather at the siteIn the
You have no choice between left or right'cause your own
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