we are the beloved sons but we shine like dead suns give us too much rope and we fuck it up
the world keeps diving and we don't give a fuck 'cause we can choose straight from hate to love
and try to look at yourself what do you think you are? a superstar??? who is trying to escape but from whom... your own tomb?
if the pain, and the sin, and the chilly wind sting, and the soul, and the hope, and world's to cold, choose...
if the mood, and the fruit and life's mute, and the love, and the sun, and the blood in the veins are gone choose catharsis
or breath the air and try to take care don't set your control on fire then life will feel a bit lighter and you'll soon be a bit brighter and a billion times taller... and a million times smaller...