We get our d** from our pharmacists Are we all getting ready for the moving day? We have all become over-worried these days Or maybe we're just accepting it A hundred different pens are telling the same story A hundred different sheets on a hundred different floors This is our last chance to f** it up We noticed that the stars are just stars And that there's just nothing more to it I guess we already f**ed it up big time Who will breathe for us? Where did our talents go?