From:
Hands and fingers, arms and neck
For the promise to find out
What it is all about
It's already down to heads or tails
Moira did belief in virtue and honesty but
You know innocence breaks so easily
So you can't choose it's not on you to know what's right
Everything is set for the final fight
Deep inside you know it's not just black or white
You are well prepared for the final fight
Every day is judged by the framework
Of your certain point of view
Life is change just like the withering truth
Truth is just a philosophic term
That doesn't serve the ways of life
Those who want to know bout life must
Find the trace of truth
I'm tired, would you take me home
Where I can rest in your arms
I don't need to make amends
But the streets where you take me home
Recall my paranoid circus of formative years
Playback life and anabolic arguments instead
Maybe that's it all about
It's already down to heads or tails
So she killed herself on a lovely morning
And the rising sun smiled in her numbly eyes
So please show me where the truth is in that sweet tale
You have to admit, itīs nothing but a bale
Everything has failed if you canīt see whatīs bright
What you see out there is just what you see inside
Reality is nothing than the register
Of crimes of a humankind
Now you agree it's up to us to do the whatīs right
Right comes along with fortune
But fortune is a furtive friend indeed
You can only find the key of fortune in yourself
I'm tired, would you take me home
Where I can rest in your arms
I don't need to make amends
But the streets where you take me home
Recall my paranoid circus of formative years
Of formative years
Iīm so tired
Translate to:
Hands and fingers, arms and neck
For the promise to find out
What it is all about
It's already down to heads or tails
Moira did belief in virtue and honesty but
You know innocence breaks so easily
So you can't choose it's not on you to know what's right
Everything is set for the final fight
Deep inside you know it's not just black or white
You are well prepared for the final fight
Every day is judged by the framework
Of your certain point of view
Life is change just like the withering truth
Truth is just a philosophic term
That doesn't serve the ways of life
Those who want to know bout life must
Find the trace of truth
I'm tired, would you take me home
Where I can rest in your arms
I don't need to make amends
But the streets where you take me home
Recall my paranoid circus of formative years
Playback life and anabolic arguments instead
Maybe that's it all about
It's already down to heads or tails
So she killed herself on a lovely morning
And the rising sun smiled in her numbly eyes
So please show me where the truth is in that sweet tale
You have to admit, itīs nothing but a bale
Everything has failed if you canīt see whatīs bright
What you see out there is just what you see inside
Reality is nothing than the register
Of crimes of a humankind
Now you agree it's up to us to do the whatīs right
Right comes along with fortune
But fortune is a furtive friend indeed
You can only find the key of fortune in yourself
I'm tired, would you take me home
Where I can rest in your arms
I don't need to make amends
But the streets where you take me home
Recall my paranoid circus of formative years
Of formative years
Iīm so tired