Из альбома: Six
I fully understand the shotgun in my pillow
Is no uncarved block at hand
Life is sweet but not it seems for Buddha
There's a shotgun in his hand
(Ha-ha-ha-ha)
(Da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da)
Shotgun
Shotgun
Shotgun
Shotgun
The nature of uncarved blocks
Is how to describe what's hard to describe, yeah, yeah-eah-eah
The simplest things, the quietest, the child-like simplicity
Everything I need to hear, positive the way I view
The simple of thought, inherit the earth
(Shotgun blows, shotgun blow-ow-ows)
Like Winnie-The-Pooh, Confucianist rules
Oblivious in what I do, deliberate the way I live
Shotgun blows, shotgun blows, shotgun blow-ow-ows
Shotgun blows, shotgun blows, shotgun blow-ow-ows
Shotgun blows
The nature of uncarved blocks
Is how to describe what's hard to describe
Vinegar taster says
More force I apply
More trouble I make
(Is that I cannot describe why it is such
A perfect illustration of the opposite and complex arrogance
We display to protect one another)
(Think too much, think too much, think too much, think too much)