What's with these lights?
Is this an interrogation?
What's with these lights?
Third degree in the ma**es eyes.
What's with these lights?
Is this an interrogation?
What's with these lights?
I've got nothing to say.
Beggar with a soapbox,
Kinesiatic with pride.
Beggar with a soapbox,
But I've got nothing to say.
Build a bigger soapbox,
The nothing just gets louder.
This is just strategic stagnation.
All our stomachs growl for the same thing,
Just another fix to us inside.
Eat, sleep, lather, rinse. Repeat.
None of those things are good enough for me.