Me lack space in the spirit The weekday is five stories high And the deafening different distance Between the brown bread breakdown And you is a delicate delight Crush cost
Just imagine your Impossible impressions Merchant mercy message From morning to night Hey miss brown Object to the oak
You ought to turn the page Take a peculiar pen and write Your own instant If somebody talks to you Apply for proofs now
Don't be satisfied with a lack Every time you say goodbye You die a little don't take roots Don't retire paint the painful page Otherwise you only ought To track the outline review
Put on your socks Before you put on your shoes Watch out Mad dog is running loose You've got two cars You've got ten fingers
But it's never you It must be others Sleeping tight Thinking of the past I wonder how long Is this gonna last?