Feeling ugly, looking pretty Yellow ribbons, black graffiti Word is written, bond is broken No big secret left unspoken Sun is painted in the corner But it's never getting warmer All the lies they keep on selling But you never check the spelling
Flying bullets Hit the targets Wings and halos Five to seven In these white robes Through the darkness Para gliding
Back to heaven
Time is running, we are sitting Back together just for splitting
You are crying in the corner Always next and never former Open up and let me hear it Former body, future spirit Brain is useless, chair is rocking Open doors for dead man walking
Flying Bullets Hit the targets Wings and halos Five to seven In these white robes Through the darkness Para gliding