In the world we are too many, we are cramped
The sun still burns and we are already extinguished
Because we sleep crooked under torments
Sleep, like everyone, rewards too many contenders
We compliment each other, but we grit our teeth
We pretend to be relatives
We call our parents by their first names and for variety
We call our acquaintances brothers

Our bodies are just expensive shells
Of something that doesn't matter
Life is just the maintenance of a circumstance
So I roll up the sixth break of the evening
Hoping that no one leaves
How forced is this pale presence
How far my home is
How forced is this weak presence
How far my home is

At night we are frank, we make pacts
We save five or six drafts
We wish to be few if we are many
We wish to be awake if we are tired
And in the morning we get up with the disappointment
That it's no longer the right time for breakfast
And our doubts write our fictional story
And having a doubt leaves the benefit of indecision

Our bodies are just expensive shells
Of something that doesn't matter
Life is just the maintenance of a circumstance
So I roll up the sixth break of the evening
Hoping that no one leaves
How forced is this pale presence
How far my home is
How forced is this weak presence
How far my home is

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