We, chase misprinted lies
We, chase the tracks of time
And yet I fight, and yet I fight this battle all alone
No one to cry to, no place to call home
Oooh... Oooh...
Oooh... Oooh...
My, gift of self is raped
My, privacy is raked
And yet I find, yet I find repeating in my head
If I can't be my own, I'd feel better dead
Oooh... Oooh...
Oooh... Oooh...
No comments:
Post a Comment