| I can’t,
|
| I can’t take it easily,
|
| I won’t,
|
| I won’t let it gravel me.
|
| But I transgress,
|
| Born into sin,
|
| Born into current.
|
| I can’t comply to a compliment.
|
| I won’t quietly ask for it,
|
| And the current still drags me in,
|
| Slow down. |
| (Slow down, down, down)
|
| The pills won’t make this go away;
|
| Our trails stubbornly set in ways to revolt,
|
| Try to repulse. |
| (Ohh)
|
| Quake in the middle of the night feeling the choke,
|
| Your mind being pulled out of your head.
|
| I won’t swallow it logically.
|
| I see,
|
| I’m barraged by dollar signs.
|
| Show me in to permanent sleep.
|
| Quake in the middle of the night feeling the choke,
|
| Your mind being pulled out of your head.
|
| Noise fills your thoughts,
|
| Inhaling to catch your breath with every heartbeat.
|
| Swallow your pride,
|
| The strychnine’s benign,
|
| Dissolve your cyanide,
|
| Enchant all my lies.
|
| Discretely confined,
|
| Coagulate my designs.
|
| Am I seeing so clear,
|
| Original sin is a hoax.
|
| Ready?
|
| Tell me where are all the good times?
|
| The ones that set us free.
|
| Tell me where are all the good times?
|
| Tell me where are all the good times?
|
| I’m a lost cause,
|
| Sailing off course.
|
| I’ll be good for you.
|
| I’ll be waiting for the daze,
|
| I’ve got a handful of the antidote.
|
| I’m working out I’m by the head of an angel.
|
| I can’t believe that I’m too blind to see.
|
| Oh,
|
| Tell me where are the good times?
|
| I’m a lost cause,
|
| Sailing off course. |