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| Fusillade au Collège Dawson |
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Where are we? What the hell is going on?
The dust has only just begun to form,
Crop circles in the
carpet, sinking, feeling.
Spin me round again and rub my eyes.
This can't be happening.
When busy streets a mess
with people
would stop to hold their heads heavy.
Hide and seek.
Trains and sewing machines.
All those years
they were here first.
Oily marks appear on walls
Where pleasure moments hung before.
The takeover, the sweeping insensitivity
of this
still life.
Hide and seek.
Trains and sewing machines. (Oh, you won't catch me around here)
Blood
and tears,
They were here first.
Mmm, what you say?
Mm, that you only meant well? Well, of course you did.
Mmm,
what you say?
Mm, that it's all for the best? Ah of course it is.
Mmm, what you say?
Mm, that it's just what we need?
And you decided this.
Mmm what you say?
What did she say?
Ransom notes keep falling out your mouth.
Mid-sweet talk, newspaper word cut-outs.
Speak no feeling,
no I dont believe you.
You don't care a bit. You don't care a bit.
Ransom notes keep falling out your mouth.
Mid-sweet
talk, newspaper word cut-outs.
Speak no feeling, no I don't believe you.
You don't care a bit. You don't care a bit.
You
don't care a bit.
You don't care a bit.
You don't care a bit.
You don't care a bit.
You don't care a bit.
''Hide
& Seek'' by Imogen Heap
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