| Lyrics: | Raced for months in circles don't know where to go
So nauseus nobody's near me, antisocial
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Ahead I catch my breat and again im behind
It somehow works itself out in the back of my
mind
4..3..2.. First to First, womb to hearse get by
Is there nothing you want worse
than to pass the time?
Am I stubborn, selfish or scared of stability
Part of a rotten
useless, unprouctive minority
(all this thought to resposobilities,
redundent schedules
carved in 30 years mortages
for a finaced wife some to buy kids,
whats in your waller,
where do I sign up)
4..3..2 first to first, womb to hearse get by
Is there nothing you
want worse then to pass the time? |
