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She cries til it's bright, til the sun is shining in the summertime |
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She's dry, had no tears to cry, then daylight starts attacks |
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Against her muddy eyes |
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She's tired of this life, no summersun can help her 'bout the sorrow in her mind |
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When the spoon is hot and the needle searches for a way |
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She's turning back to live and to feel like a queen |
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When the stuff is over and the nightlight sucks the day |
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She's longing to drift and to push the time away |
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When the money's over and she sells herself as shame |
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Her unconscious state remains an psycho circle game |
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She screams for a scene that she saw herself on the |
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TV-Screen |
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She was steam, ash grey steam, but now she's going black |
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And it fades for free |
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She must sleep, her body's weak but she is powerless |
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Against her fast heartbeat |
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When the spoon is hot... |
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She screams: please help me! |
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Her friends go down this same way |
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They're no medicine |
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When the spoon is hot... |
