Broken people in a first world's despair
Broken people in a first world's despair
With our hearts in our heels
The throat gagged by the shame
Because we are all well aware
That our pain in truth reveals
The luxury of our frame
With a roof over the head
And money for the bread
We still lay in our bed
Thinking that maybe we should be dead
The base of the pyramide is guaranteed
But nothing seems to make our heart bleed
So we lay under cover waiting to recover
In between the fight and the flight
We stand still:
The battery has run low
In us there is no heroic knight
Just the absence of a thrill
And a deep love for our pillow
Our crisis is in truth silly
With our hearts in our heels
The throat gagged by the shame
Because we are all well aware
That our pain in truth reveals
The luxury of our frame
With a roof over the head
And money for the bread
We still lay in our bed
Thinking that maybe we should be dead
The base of the pyramide is guaranteed
But nothing seems to make our heart bleed
So we lay under cover waiting to recover
In between the fight and the flight
We stand still:
The battery has run low
In us there is no heroic knight
Just the absence of a thrill
And a deep love for our pillow
Our crisis is in truth silly
Some place in the world people are hungry, really
And if they saw our apathy, I'm sure they would get angry
I know I would, if everyday I was trying the best I could
It is a luxury to reclaim sense
While leaving it all in suspense
But still:
The mist is just too dense
So we do the hungry the offense
We choke up half eaten meals
Because our heart
Is all the way down in our heels.
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