Tekster: Chaplan. They Ain't Got Nothing On Me.

Sent from news rooms, straight to television sets, to show you what is wrong.
Catch this bullet with my face. Now were making such a mess.

Were so organized in every way, but never let it show.
Its what were all about this time.
These hands will break if they try to hold us down.
Im sure all this is fate.

Sent from stereos to let your ears tune-in.
All acquaintances in this now are dead.
Now this heart is chained without a key for its lock.
Sing for empathy.

Were so organized in every way, but never let it show.
Its what were all about this time.
These hands will break if they try to hold us down.
Im sure all this is fate.

I mask every moment with a smile hoping youll pass me by