Normal people talking about normal things
Other people, over cheap wine and fresh cigarettes
What can they do?
What do they do?
No, seriously!
What do they do or say all day

Do they all just do laundry and stare at each other while listening to almost good music
Reading articles for bored people written by bored people

How can you live, how can you grow
When you cut off and threw off
All your gemstones - your most colourful clothes
And now, you practice, you excersise
Which is good

But that's not how a soul should be fed
It gets fed up quite easily with going to bed
By 10 pm each night
Sure it can fade and later be framed and find fame

What is it? this futile fertilizer?
Can it be a song in summer
Played on a piano by fingers
Shaking from too much coffee

Or can it be a scarf that you put on
That reminds you of a colourful time
When sky was magenta and words were rhymes
Now you play video games till dawn

So maybe just do it, burn it all
Cut the silicone ribbon and set yourself free
Of all the hurt and its agents, let them leave
Let your self stay, though
At the end, it's just you and your faded polaroid soul