In a rut and indisposed
His blood runs cold
In a vacuum all his own
Nothing to hold
The black the white
They wall him from without
No roads to turn
Slowly he goes down...
On his knees on broken glass... down...
Vicious cycles going round again
That's the way it goes
Pretending they don't know
He thinks when it will end
His mind goes blank
His non-existent life
Goes with the wind
The black the white
They wall him from without
No roads to turn
Slowly he goes down...
On his knees on broken glass... down...
Vicious cycles going round again
That's the way it goes
Pretending they don't know