" On August 29th, 1997, it's gonna feel pretty fucking real to you, too! Anybody not wearing two million sunblock is gonna have a real bad day, get it?! You think you're safe and alive? You're already dead! Everybody! Him, you, you're dead already! This whole place! Everything you see is gone! You're the one living in a fucking dream, Silberman! Because I know it happens! It happens!! "
The clouds, the faces stoned The ghosts of love are leaving Always locked in this time What ends when anything bleeding
Wear the big grey-straight jacket The rusty chains of life Give up all sightless faith Lay down all your pride
The wishes, the shouts like water Steril thoughts, an open sore And we will dissolve As blood drifts like snow
Wear the old grey-straight jacket The hard blindfolded life Blurred, stained and covered Bury all your pride
See a freezing decade Of love – stained pictures Turns in to hate Now it’s to late forever