of one. Chorus: I'm sick of painting in black and white My pen is dry, now I'm uptight So sick of limiting myself to fit your definition. I'm sick of
: I'm born I'm alive I breathe. In a moment or two I realize, that the sphere, Upon which I reside, Is asleep on its feet. Should I go back to sleep?
go, you did it again! You act as if there's blinders on your eyes. Chorus: Should I apologize if what I say burns your ears And stains your eyes?! Oh, did I
I need? Tell me who to believe! What's the use of autonomy when a button does it all? T.V., what should I see? Tell me who should I be? Let's do our mom
I'm so happy. I see you looking, I know that you're thinking That I'll never go anywhere. The things that I've done and the things that I've seen, I
street signs point the way. Chorus: Are you gonna stand around till 2012 A.D.? What are you waiting for, a certain shade of green? I think I grew a
utilize Things that are stored.... Deep inside...I'm on my own and I can't see straight! Deep inside...Am I so stoned that I can't see straight? It's
you, hate you hate I found a sound in the house one day, if you know who lost it, I'll give it away! Away! This sound I found said, this sound belongs
: I'm home alone tonight. Full moon illuminates my room, and sends my mind aflight. I think I was dreaming up some thoughts That were seemingly possible
and I stubbed my big toe. It was then that I sensed the irony (burning me), Then I heard a voice say, "Come sail aboard S.S. Nepenthe!" I suppose I'm
you'll see what I see now. It's all been saved, With the exception for the right parts. When will we be new skin? It's all been seen, With the exception
vine, So pick your prize! In little, black book do I confide. Upon return, I conjure what was seen. I let it pulse and boil within my limbs. I lay my
that I sensed the irony (Burning me) Then I heard the voice say "Come sail aboard S.S. Nepenthe" I suppose I'm to blame for getting pulled over I guess I
are stored deep inside of our Deep inside I'm on my own I can't see straight Deep inside, 'cuz I'm so stoned I can't see straight Man, I've got to
again TV, what do I need? Tell me who to believe? What's the use of autonomy When a button does it all? TV, what should I see? Tell me who should I
colors of one I'm sick of painting in black and white My pen is dry, now I'm uptight So sick of limiting myself To fit your definition I'm sick of
At first I see an open wound Infected and disastrous It breathes chaotic catastrophe It cries to be renewed [Incomprehensible] Its tears are the color
sleep? I'm born, I'm alive, I breathe In a moment or two I realize That this sphere upon which I reside Is asleep upon its feet Should I, should I, should I
