In our tiny little plastic world,
where caffeine is the only drug,
the doors and windows never open,
something contagious could come up.
We see where the horizons end
and scream until our lies will hurt,
we open up, we leave the key
find out what it means to me.
We waste our time on borderlines
and never ask what we'll become.
Our hearts are filled with empty shells.
The work is done.
The work is done.
We live in happy little boxes,
celebrate shopping all day long,
back home
we drink our sky-blue liquids,
a taste of life
on our tongue.
In our tiny little colonies,
something contagious will come up.
The doors and windows are all broken,
the virus as a gentle hug.
We sympathize with open ends,
and scream until our lies will hurt.
We open up, we leave the key.
Find out what it means to me.
We live in happy little boxes,
celebrate shopping all day long,
back home
we drink our sky-blue liquids,
a taste of life
on our tongue.
