Tekst :
A machine came knocking at my doorLost and alone; hungry for oil.
I could see he wouldn t get too far
Shape of a man; soul of a car.
Soon we ll all be dead.
It makes me feel so comfortable.
What I see and what I think I hear
Clouds in my eye; rust in my ear.
A machine will never have to feel.
I know it s fake but pretend that it s real.
Soon we ll all be dead.
It makes me feel so comfortable
Tekst :
My generation no direction, my generation no opinion.My generation in a soundbite, my generation isn t quite right.
And generation X will rise up from the ashes of its own mistakes.
And we will find our way to a new day or else we ll die in the effort.
My generation on a talk show, a generation without gusto.
My generation in a sit-com, my generation is a timebomb.
And generation X will rise up from the ashes of its own mistakes.
And we will find our way to a new day or else we ll die in the effort.
My generation in a tabloid, my generation in a dark void.
My generation full of losers, my generation is the future.
And generation X will rise up from the ashes of its own mistakes.
And we will find our way to a new day or else we ll die in the effort.
Tekst :
Crickets rhythmically singtheir mournful melodies
a monotone by request
but they fail, they fail
to soothe the mess
hands rhythmically grope
the sheets again for you
and off-rhythm the time slows
to make moments eternal
moments eternal
is this some kind of holy test
to stitch the treadmarks off my chest
to get up walk outside my head
on a holy search for angeltread
the moon within its ball
washes white the darkened wall
with a milky veil of silk
and I see, I see the spirits lilt
now I ve lost my fear
so I pray that you come near
with a million sparkly lights
and help me, help me through the night
the milky prints of spirits near
I pray that they have lost their fear
a million wisps of sparkly light
weaving through the walls...