Spoiled children soon to fall

Freedom is the lie we live

We will wait for tragedy

And scatter helpless to the fire

Sorry for ourselves

Sorry for the things we've seen

No one cries for help

Waiting for the fire

When all our toys are burning

All these empty urges must be satisfied

Acted outside

Precious strength to turn the game to history

Giving up, I'm blown away

He said all I had to say

The final days have come and gone

Safe inside; there's nothing wrong

Nothing in these words

Sorry force of habit

Could it be way over my head?

Helpless to describe it

Could it be way over my head?

Helpless to describe it

Could it be way over my head?

Helpless to describe it

Dumb