Il y a des choses comme ça, qui vous démolissent en quelques clics. Volontaires, qui plus est. C'est la déprime post-nouvel an qui s'installe, et qui s'installe grave. La musique n'arrange rien, on s'y complaît, même si je n'y comprends rien, ça sent l'amertume et ça me colle à la peau. Come touch me like I'm an ordinary man have a look in my eyes, underneath my skin there is violence got a gun in its hand, ready to make, ready to make, read ready to make sense of anyone anything anyone anything anyone anything anyone anything anyone anything. Black holes living in the side of your face, razor wire spinning around around around around your blistering sky, blistering sky, blistering sky, bullets are the beauty of the blistering sky, bullets are the beauty and I don't know why, bullets are the beauty of the blistering sky, bullets are the beauty and I don't know why. Personal responsibility, personal responsibility, personal responsibility, personal responsibility.
