Tekstovi: Mattafix. The Means.

Haead rests,
a sore mind behind these
red eyes.
Watch the television,
sweet escapism,
game shows and racism.
Headlines,
war crimes behind disguised
affection.

All for a cause that
never was.
Call for a voice but all
it does is sigh.
Inside.
Sigh.

More or less,
there abouts,
a young man with so
many doubts.
I try to learn
impersonating,
the clever moves but I
am facing,
the always power-crazed,
middle aged generation.

All for a cause that
never was.
Call for a voice but
all it does is sigh.
Inside.
Sigh.
Inside.

Blood and blame passed
on to a neighbour.
Continuing the chain.
Deadly game of whispers.
How am I to grow.
The life I love I
don't know.

Blood and blame passed
on to a neighbour.
Continuing the chain.
Deadly game of whispers.
How am I to grow.
The life I love I
don't know.

Blood and blame passed
on to a neighbour.
Continuing the chain.
Deadly game of whispers.
How am I to grow.
The life I love I
don't know.