Waking up in this old daily tristesse* (FR: Sadness)
Permanently controlled by this historical mess
Drowning in a frockof ancient habits
Holding hands, I have to care cause it’s so important
Barely holding the weight of my existence
Down on my knees,boney and crackling in vain
Confessing what’s wrong remains in my existence
“insincere”, I say, admitting my sins
The flock’s opposing itself
Seeing blindly, hearing, yet deaf
Feeling heartless, although there is a heart
Watching closely, hearing slightly
Believing in our own
What’s right and what’s wrong?
Don’t go by a book
Might be truth, might be tales
Don’t act in terms of a story
Act how you feel right
Lyrics Submitted by Andreyevich
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