| Waiting for another way
|
| The sun just won’t reflect the light when drawn into my eyes
|
| Waiting for the train to come
|
| It’s 4 PM, it’s dark, the tracks, they tempt my weary eyes
|
| I swear I’ll turn myself to money, there’s nothing I want
|
| Just get me off of this plastic chair
|
| It’s my goodbye voice, I’ll waltz into the well-known
|
| Money really matter, I yield, I yield
|
| So take this sword and cut my head off
|
| Oh, watch it roll over nothingness
|
| Watch it roll over mountains
|
| Let it scream in your ears
|
| Let it fly over cities
|
| Would buy a car if I could drive
|
| I’d go from one art gallery to another with a slanted view
|
| It’s a sport, haven’t you noticed?
|
| My social worker sounds just like an analyst from NBA
|
| Oh, it’s not your deal, your conscience all clean
|
| It’s my mood that swings like a weathervane
|
| They just don’t fit these shoes on mountain range
|
| Just throw me on the desired path
|
| So take this sword and cut my head off
|
| Oh, watch it roll over nothingness
|
| Watch it roll over mountains
|
| Let it scream in your ears
|
| I swear I’ll turn myself to money, there’s nothing I want
|
| Just get me off of this plastic chair
|
| It’s my goodbye voice, I’ll waltz into the well-known
|
| Money really matter, I yield, I yield
|
| So take this sword and cut my head off
|
| Oh, watch it roll over nothingness
|
| Watch it roll over mountains
|
| Let it scream in your ear
|
| Let it fly over cities |