Из альбома: Future Isms
I don't sleep and i don't eat.
Fall asleep on my feet.
These are desperate times:
Locked myself in a box again.
Convinced myself that a set of keys were friends.
I don't talk in my sleep to make conversation.
And I wish you wouldn't listen,
And I wish I didn't know.
I wish I knew how little you can give before you gave yourself away.
I'm going on strike until conditions improve.