Blank looks that stare into thin air
Shiny plastic chairs, left-overs
A theme of one spit in two
I almost did surprise you
But now it's a dead end
Next to the dead meat
Can I recommend myself
To blend into your drink
Everything I know and feel
Is stuck in spider web
Here within, but this is not the real life
So cut it out with a butchers knife
A price on your head and the words
To drill a deep hole
The bodies are painted red
The language to play another role
The impact of weaving a nest
Made of barbed-wire fence
The rafe to pierce both heart and sense
So deep within, but thats not the real life
Better cut it out with a butchers knife
Now it's a dead end
Next to the dead meat
