There's a cold liar under these soles. there's a place i can hide where no one ever goes. cut to these feelings - straight through the ceiling tonight! an electrical king with a crown of live thorns says: "we all want it black and white!" - like our lives! time will erase him (his hopes - his dreams - our fears). but bloody hands remain (the country so unclear). and all that we've done is just bury the gun - if we don't see this now then we never will. push in the potion - you've quelled the commotion i'll say! an oswaldian theory: "he's the one! don't get near me!" we all want it anyway...