Timeboms wakes me up this morning
And I see a dream explode
Sad fireworks at nine am
New old language to decode

Salesmen bureaucrats cops and bankers
All line up to wash my face
The room is dense with pointed fingers
Now I hate the human race

Baby help me I'm not ready yet
Water's rising to the edge of the bed
Temperatures drop this world in a fridge
My head is a scrapyard my mouth is a ditch

I'm nothing without you

What's with this damned pursuit of happiness
Good clean thoughs pollute my mind
Waking up ain't nothing else but
Murder of a different kind

(c) PJDS
Tekst: Pieter-Jan De Smet
Muziek: Mirko Banovic, Geoffrey Burton, Pieter-Jan De Smet en Frederik Van Den Berghe