This is a crisis With ticking time, calendars and canonballs So I question what this life is Teenage dreams of fame, the motorway or swimming lanes There's a problem to my crisis It lasted 22 years, 7 months and 7 days Still I wonder where my mind is With all that ticking time, calendars and canonballs I'm ten times sore Hoping it's a star no satelite that blinds me I'm very bored Fighting myself much harder than I fight them It's in my TV screen, in my self-esteem, my forgotten dream, in the things I've seen In the things I don't see anymore, in the d**h I'm trying to ignore In the tuned up cars, in the teenage who*es, in the words I say without a cause In the credit cards, in the desperate hearts, in the hollow words, in the pop-star Get me out of here, get me out of here, get me out of here, get me out of here Get me out of here, get me out of here, who will? So an*lyse this an*lysis When the rockets come in everyday form and I'm still not gone It seems I'm not much of a good time With my worried mind (be happy) and my canonballs I'm ten times sore Hoping it's a star no satelite that blinds me I'm very bored Fighting myself much harder than I fight them It's bitter to consider That it's myself and not the world that k**s me It's bitter to consider That it's myself and not the world that k**s me