| This world is a lonely place
|
| One head, two pillows
|
| Old statues made from the dead
|
| Only noticed by pigeons
|
| When I hung up the phone last night
|
| You just sounded so tired
|
| From all the bastards
|
| That keep bringing you down
|
| So don’t let them hurt you
|
| They don’t feel like we do
|
| They hang on to things
|
| They’re puppets with strings
|
| With no one to pull
|
| So don’t let them push you
|
| Don’t let them use you
|
| And even if you fall
|
| Just say «fuck them all»
|
| When you hit the floor
|
| This world is a lonely place
|
| One head and two pillows
|
| So you keep remembering yourself
|
| All the good things that you’re missing
|
| I guess When you’re down and out
|
| You just don’t feel the danger
|
| So here they come, There they go
|
| The bastards once again
|
| So don’t let them hurt you
|
| They don’t feel like we do
|
| They hang on to things
|
| They’re puppets with strings
|
| With no one to hurt
|
| So don’t let them push you
|
| Don’t let them use you
|
| And even if you fall
|
| Just say «fuck them all»
|
| So don’t let them hurt you
|
| They don’t feel like we do
|
| They hang on to things
|
| They’re puppets with strings
|
| With no one to pull
|
| So don’t let them push you
|
| Don’t let them use you
|
| Even if you fall
|
| Just say «fuck them all»
|
| When you hit the floor
|
| When you hit the floor |