Tekster: Scenic (The). Bipolaroid. Godspeed For Gravity.

My ego killed my fears today. Reverse the Earth?s polarity and fly, but not so high. And if you start to feel the gravity, and all the harsh realities, don?t stop. We are the death of royalty. And so, mathematic as we go, the ebb and flow, a tipping ration. And we sing,
?Whoa, whoa, whoa!? I think we ought to go because man, this shit is getting old. So ride it; life is what you make it. Doesn?t matter how you want to live, you?re going to die. And that?s alright because I always get by. And we scream, ?Whoa, whoa, whoa!? I hope we break the mold because we keep bleeding from our throats. So ride it; life is what you make it. Doesn?t matter how you want to live, you?re going to die. For every time I got close, but no cigar. It wasn?t what I thought when I reached the stars.
Can you see the bitter end from here? So ride, you?ll never take us down alive.
We are the hurricane. Sometimes I?d rather sink than start again; I swallow splinters swim against the grain. So ride it; life is what you make it. Haven?t learned a lesson that I haven?t learned before, for every time I got close but no cigar. It wasn?t what I thought when I reached the stars. Can you see the bitter end from here?