| I can't fall asleep, I can't go out now | 
| They come to see me before bed | 
| I can't fall asleep, I can't go out now | 
| They come to see me before bed | 
| I have dull eyes, smoke in my mouth, I see souls | 
| Ghosts on the streets, their bodies in cars | 
| I move the saints in the hanging walls, it is telekinesis | 
| I see double, I smoke triple, we bastards like Cripol | 
| I go out, I spit blood, I wait for God to hear me | 
| They force me to daydream with the light off | 
| People still hope, their hands are clasped in prayer | 
| Sputtanano salaries in one evening, children in jail | 
| A whole life trying to give their best | 
| It's a miracle if you stay awake in the car on Saturday | 
| Babies dead in their wombs and the others live shortly | 
| Every generation hates the one that comes next | 
| They have lived for a maximum of half a day | 
| Here, hold your breath or breathe the wrong air | 
| Check, they want freedom, they ask for freedom | 
| They looked for it in an after on Sunday | 
| And every Saturday is a fight on the track | 
| Elbow noses fly at the time of Aramito & Diabolika | 
| How many greetings they raised me | 
| And who, greets me from the side like a soldier's slap | 
| You haven't changed, no, you're still the fucking failed guy | 
| Sitting comfortably on top of my third finger | 
| On that lying smile of a desperate man | 
| And however much the voice may scream it does not go beyond the block | 
| You don't know who you are and if you did, you forgot it | 
| And you cry at forty with those who remind you of the past | 
| I write verses among the undead in the rem phase | 
| I live self-depressive and requiem notes | 
| If I can't sleep it's because | 
| I'm looking for a perfect song to die for | 
| I write verses among the undead in the rem phase | 
| I live self-depressive and requiem notes | 
| If I can't sleep it's because | 
| I'm looking for a perfect song to die for | 
| We look at the world from darkened windows | 
| And nobody notices us, we drown inside | 
| I hate the system, I hate the scheme | 
| I'm on the fucking skin, no problem | 
| I jump into your head like full blunders | 
| I hate stadium, I hate radios, 105, RTL | 
| I rise in the air and explode among the stars | 
| They tell me hurry up time passes do it so they can hear you | 
| But the point is, where I pass, the clocks slow down | 
| They call me Lebon like Simon | 
| And I've been doing this shit ever since I was in skates and a backpack | 
| Where, an instrument ends my fingers begin | 
| One life is not enough to sing what I hear | 
| It seems clear to me that you don't understand | 
| To hear what I sing, hearing is not enough | 
| I have a song in my head, I have decided | 
| You'll see me die now with a quarter of a smile | 
| I can't fall asleep, I can't go out now | 
| They come to see me before bed | 
| I can't fall asleep, I can't go out now | 
| They come to see me before bed | 
| I write verses among the undead in the rem phase | 
| I live self-depressive and requiem notes | 
| If I can't sleep it's because | 
| I'm looking for a perfect song to die for | 
| I write verses among the undead in the rem phase | 
| I live self-depressive and requiem notes | 
| If I can't sleep it's because | 
| I'm looking for a perfect song to die for | 
| Before sleeping ... before sleeping, before sleeping | 
| A perfect song to die for |