I don’t like what I have I want more than that As soon as I lay my weapons down I pick ‘em up again
I hope it unfolds before it blows up
I bury my hands in my pockets I stretch my arms out to the sky I bury my hands in my pockets I stretch my arms out to the sky I’m drawn like a moth to a flame But I get to keep away from it
I hope it unfolds before it blows up
I bury my hands in my pockets I stretch my arms out to the sky I bury my hands in my pockets I stretch my arms out ... to the sky I’m drawn like a moth to a flame But I get to keep away from it