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This is pretty far

From being hell

Only a personal one

Having a great document

For how much longer

Can I hide

Behind the luxury

Of looking inside

Betrayed myself

Over the same old song

Everything I thought I was

Just don't fit anymore

I haven't written

A good riff in years

Brilliant lyrics

Turn out to be fills

Even Satan fashioneth

Himself into an angel of light

But at least it's something

In the end of the tunnel

It’s not the end

We’ve been hoping for

Apocalypse without horses

With a price tag on

How much post-truth

Is in store for me

It’s always rush hour

And no one gets outta free

Nincsen magyar szöveg

Nincs mit mondanom nektek

Ha csak a nyelv tart minket össze

Mi sose beszéltünk egyet