| The streets
|
| Ghosts theater of headlights
|
| And petrol stream
|
| But you know
|
| We waiting walking forwards
|
| Lost control
|
| Our hands cold grip
|
| These Killing tools
|
| Culture wears
|
| Fools follow fools
|
| The more we think
|
| The farther we fall
|
| And when I look past all the days before
|
| Hurt and lost won’t last though
|
| What’s true
|
| The missing part of me
|
| Isn’t me at all
|
| It’s you
|
| In the city dawn restless souls find an ear
|
| We hold in our hands that world
|
| We hold in our hands that world
|
| The picture I keep safe in my heart of folding time is here
|
| We hold in our hands that world
|
| We hold in our hands that world
|
| For all the friends
|
| Looking out past long idle talk
|
| Through the faulty barred windows
|
| Here and out in the wet night
|
| The Street ghost theater feeling of headlights
|
| But you know rising inside
|
| Falling through the surface
|
| All this is just empty
|
| Just shadows on the wall
|
| Light source behind us
|
| Says fuck the world
|
| Fuck them all
|
| In the city dawn restless souls find an ear
|
| We hold in our hands that world
|
| We hold in our hands that world
|
| The picture I keep safe in my heart of folding time is here
|
| We hold in our hands that world
|
| We hold in our hands that world
|
| Killing tools for killing time
|
| The more we walk to the path unwind
|
| From labyrinth of justified illusion
|
| Nostalgia
|
| Killing tools for killing time
|
| The more we talk is the perfect crime
|
| We make the enemy of good for that
|
| That we can still
|
| Even if we fall
|
| So fuck the world, fuck them all
|
| In the city dawn restless souls find an ear
|
| We hold in our hands that world
|
| We hold in our hands that world
|
| The picture I keep safe in my heart of folding time is here
|
| We hold in our hands that world
|
| We hold in our hands that world
|
| We hold in our hands that world
|
| We hold in our hands that world |