fear and trembling, these eyes speak fever and irresolution, panic is tied too close around these weak wrists, it cuts the flow, our blood turns bad causing our legs to fold, twisted into fierce knots and all the teeth and knives are too dull to slit it loose, ashes and dust left of our plans, our spirits bent low so low and all the second bests and lost fights - i can see a future of nails in empty coffins and it´s so sad we´re all feeling a lack of direction and it´s so sad all of us don´t know where we belong, und dennoch: perspektivlosigkeit ist nie eine perspektive, the fatalists live to fall, mistakes and misdirections - we´re all so imperfect and flawed but that´s what makes us beautiful and oh don´t worry because tomorrow we will run faster.
expl.: ever get the feeling you´ll never gonna amount to something? me too, still there´s no use in writing yourself off. fatalist views never get you anywhere, i´ll prefer illusion to despair anytime.
expl.: ever get the feeling you´ll never gonna amount to something? me too, still there´s no use in writing yourself off. fatalist views never get you anywhere, i´ll prefer illusion to despair anytime.