Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Whitevan , by - ohGr. Song from the album Devils in My Details, in the genre ЭлектроникаRelease date: 16.10.2008
Record label: BMG Rights Management
Song language: English
Whitevan |
| Just around 5 o’clock |
| Cars are screaming around the block |
| The boy is scared and looking around |
| He’s feeling a little bit anxious |
| I think he’s searching for his mother |
| What did you find? |
| On the white van |
| Facing this prospect I set out for today’s |
| Over-introspection, I feast upon decay |
| Around me is misfortune, my avenue, all spades |
| Digging all the so-called diggers |
| Digging his own grave |
| Permit me Mr. Indecision watch his machine cave |
| End up on itself and watch one debit I win and mince our way |
| The seats are best from over there out beyond the shade |
| My diggers in their dirty coats their attitudes of spades |
| Passing the inspection, No! |
| Now this is every day |
| Special forces, special boots |
| The stomper comes to pay |
| Fancy men so over-suited for the final days |
| Keep the prince in timely chintz |
| Ring out the barren child at bay |
| Christen the disaster |
| At least that’s what I say |
| Into which the thing determines which rate he decays |
| Keeping loads of sunshine |
| I love the job I play |
| Digging out this whole shitty world |
| Digging it today |
| White world |
| White world |
| White world |
| White world |
| White world |
| White world |
| White world |
| White world |
| White world |
| White world |
| White world |
| White world |
| White world |
| White world |
| White world |
| White world |
| White world |
| Good afternoon |
| What else did you find? |
| It’s not color blind |
| Feel indication |
| My vindication |
| To know nothing exists |
| Opens all to «what and if» |
| Portions of my emptiness |
| Sitting by the open door |
| Looking up to take it out |
| Settle in to catch a show |
| Re-situation |
| Dead indication |
| Feels like a clock I ate |
| Ticking in this toxic state |
| Ready for an occupant |
| Suck it up to sniff the paint |
| Sniffing up the weakest link |
| Rising from the righteous stink |
| See simulation speak |
| To take a piece of me |
| Hold onto walls of life |
| Pull the chain, when burning bright |
| In a copter raise the rope |
| Firmly placed around my throat |
| Aging worm at sanding counters |
| Slipping through my finger burn |
| Each a seclusion |
| My own intrusion |
| Upon my waking state |
| Each of us must face their fate |
| Crawling wicked, crawl some more |
| Broken body pray on floor |
| Pulling through to face a flaw |
| Pushing back to push some more |