| Take your beautiful body
|
| And sell it on the streets
|
| Not for money but time
|
| Not yours or mine
|
| But the stranger with the wandering eyes
|
| Yeah the stranger with the wandering eyes
|
| It’s the beauty of life and now it’s canned out and priced
|
| He’s the stranger with the wandering eyes
|
| He takes what has no name and
|
| Bestows identity
|
| 'Cause he’s the proper father.
|
| Lacks the. |
| sense of conquest
|
| We would never ever listen
|
| To ourselves in his condition
|
| 'Cause we’re the proper father.
|
| In a turning world of bullshit
|
| And it makes us sick to see ourselves
|
| Get this.
|
| . |
| sense of purpose
|
| Friday heights and the sky that we’re scraping
|
| He’s spreading lies about the beauty we’re breaking
|
| And wide awake at 98.6
|
| Slowly running faster from the blank. |
| death
|
| Wide awake at 98.6
|
| The premise of the person with the purpose we miss
|
| We take was has no name and
|
| Bestow our identity
|
| 'Cause we’re the proper father
|
| Like lambs. |
| to the slaughter
|
| And it makes us sick to see ourselves
|
| So i have to ask why
|
| I lust for what i see
|
| Where the product of person
|
| Doesn’t …
|
| But who still cares
|
| And who still can tell
|
| So we dispose of our need for closure
|
| Hell, we can change all the names and order
|
| We can make what was no more
|
| Or even reinvent a new way to.
|
| Do it again and do it again
|
| Can do it to families and do it to our friends
|
| We can do it again and do it again
|
| We can do it again and we do it again |