Tekst:
Franklin Delano

Work it out, please, like an obsessed leaf in the wind Sort it out, please, struggle only to win What?s the point in laying eyes shut in the green? A

I've been sleeping in my own clothes With a plastic bag instead of a window glass I've been sleeping, I've been sleeping I've been sleeping with my boots

Don?t get me wrong It?s way too long On the road to real love I am just that bus stop You?ve got this rare chance To rest in my shade Don?t build a

I am a cow Waiting to die Here is your burger, sir Here are the fries I am a cloud Travelling the skies Rain on the Midwest The forecast provides I

The morning light, a treasure for eyes Looks like the windshield's been cleaned on the quiet There's still much to drive There's still a billion miles

You're a motel room When I come back to you Cause you don't ask or show me nothing You just leave me alone Cause I'm on my own You're a bullet But

Keeping his eyes shut Feigning the sleep Black?s the best colour To hide everything Her eyes were stalling On his dreamy man?s figure Trying to remember

it's not a question of how far you can drive nor a question of how fast your vehicle can fly it's not a simple question the one you're just posing me

nothing wrong with it wintertime pisses me off as well slippin'on ice it's cold penetrating bones and nerves it seemed me right to punish myself to