| This’ll be my last hope
|
| That this dream will carry me through
|
| But history is a long rope
|
| And truth can’t make it mute
|
| If it doesn’t make you wiser
|
| Doesn’t make you stronger
|
| Doesn’t make you live a little bit
|
| What are you doing?
|
| And this’ll be my one remorse
|
| That extremes kept me abused
|
| But mystery is a long recourse
|
| And time can’t make it new
|
| If it doesn’t make you wiser
|
| Doesn’t make you stronger
|
| Doesn’t make you live a little bit
|
| What are you doing?
|
| If it doesn’t make you wiser
|
| Doesn’t make you stronger
|
| Doesn’t make you live a little bit
|
| What are you doing?
|
| In these pardoned days, I am losing all my senses
|
| In this timeless daze, I can barely see through
|
| In this crowded space, I am losing all my senses
|
| In this drowned out phase, I can barely see through
|
| If it doesn’t make you wiser
|
| Doesn’t make you stronger
|
| Doesn’t make you live a little bit
|
| What are you doing?
|
| If it doesn’t make you wiser
|
| Doesn’t make you stronger
|
| Doesn’t make you live a little bit
|
| What are you doing?
|
| If it doesn’t make you wiser
|
| Doesn’t make you stronger
|
| Doesn’t make you live a little bit
|
| What are you doing?
|
| If it doesn’t make you wiser
|
| Doesn’t make you stronger
|
| Doesn’t make you live a little bit
|
| What are you doing? |