Yesterday and yesteryear, the spirit in the atmosphere is dry.
Boleas, your axe wears thing, it's dull. The wind won't bite.
Like a vampire without his teeth, a hound dog that won't eat no meat,
you're tired.
Tired of breathing second hand smoke,
it's hard being there all the time.
They say it's everyday getting colder, but may I be a little bit bolder?
It's not.
Children trapped inside a bin, and there's no way in. Not today.
Into a hopeful world of dreaming, missing days,
o way of scheming plans.
Of building, building up our houses weatherproofed if you want.
The sun lights strong.
Stronger now.
Now it's time.
Time to sharpen up.