| The street’s reaching up to the open window
|
| Too much information leaks in
|
| And shoots up my spine
|
| Lifting my head off the pillow
|
| And the dust rises
|
| When I set my feet on the floor
|
| I breathe in and out while I try to focus
|
| When I feel ok I twist my mouth
|
| To save what little air is left
|
| 'Cause it’s a question of constructing
|
| An imitation of conditions
|
| It’s a question of constructing
|
| An imitation of conditions
|
| To survive, to survive, to survive
|
| This situation, situation, situation
|
| To survive, to survive, to survive
|
| This situation, situation, situation
|
| I keep far away but I’m missing nothing
|
| My eyes are an endless panorama of blue
|
| There’s nothing here to block my view
|
| And with a sideways glance
|
| I am shown as much as I want to see
|
| 'Cause it’s a question of constructing
|
| An imitation of conditions
|
| It’s a question of constructing
|
| An imitation of conditions
|
| In full motion
|
| No variation
|
| This need for speed
|
| The notion of convulsion
|
| This seed of greed
|
| Shock activities
|
| Lack of memories
|
| Don’t wanna be
|
| Cannot see
|
| Anything wrong with the picture
|
| 'Cause it’s a question of constructing
|
| An imitation of conditions
|
| It’s a question of constructing
|
| An imitation of conditions
|
| To survive, to survive, to survive
|
| This situation, situation, situation
|
| To survive, to survive, to survive
|
| This situation, situation, situation
|
| 'Cause it’s a question of constructing
|
| An imitation of conditions
|
| It’s a question of constructing
|
| An imitation of conditions
|
| It’s a question of constructing
|
| An imitation of conditions
|
| It’s a question of constructing
|
| An imitation of conditions… |