| We’re all sick with our own intentions
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| But we’re spoon fed and without directions
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| The ambition is gone and we’re all moving on too soon
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| Brain washed to fit in with what we don’t want
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| Because it’s too much to try
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| Complain all the while, believe in the lie
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| Because you’re selling yourself short
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| Blind to your way out, you didn’t even notice
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| Incapable and now, well, I still think we’re all to blame
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| ‘Cause we’re all the same, and you know this
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| So here’s my leaving notice
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| But the vices in your head are designed in your own bed
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| And reflected in the window pane you tried to hide behind again
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| So blame it on all of the things
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| That contradict and cut your means
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| And justify a way to be the way you are continually
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| So here’s my leaving notice
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| Blind to your way out, you didn’t even notice
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| Incapable and now, well I still think we’re all to blame
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| ‘Cause we’re all the same, and you know this
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| So here’s my leaving notice
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| We’re all sick with our own intentions
|
| But we’re spoon fed and without directions
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| The ambition is gone and we’re all moving on too soon
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| We’re moving on and out again
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| We traded time for «could have been»
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| So write it off and call it hopeless
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| I’m handing in my leaving notice
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| We’re moving on and out again
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| We traded time for «could have been»
|
| So write it off and call it hopeless
|
| I’m handing in my leaving notice
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| We’re moving on and out again
|
| We traded time for «could have been»
|
| So write it off and call it hopeless
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| I’m handing in my leaving notice
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| (We're moving on and out again, we’re moving on and-)
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| We’re spoon fed, we’re brain dead |