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Bound by necessity of ever-lasting supply
of something we don't need
yes we don't...
Full of beauty but unhatched dreams
I have lost my ball of wool
now I can't find the way back just like you

yes we've lost right direction and we don't even care
made by fiction and enslaved by the same

maybe I should forget where I'm coming from
and pretend like nothing is going on
and cut of this stupid personal revolt
and maybe I've done already everything wrong
and this little bit is just slight rest of my broken remorse

give me one reason to swallow down
all affectation
I've tried so hard to forgot all my questions

but now I feel
like I can't stand no more
no more things, money and lies
we all are living for

we are like flies impacting
street lighting lamps
eyeless and confused
bound by our own hands

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