Idioma Origen:
away to the side you move your head gravity
fingers dig in your back the strangest man won't
let you breathe rocking on you in a movie scene
his words fill your mouth his guests bleed sick
devoid of touch he lets out to the streets where
you were raised sittin' home waiting for the
coming age you had to wait your turn you had to
wait your turn
wake up early, wash up late satellites connect
you to your hate your patience grows but your
skin is thin the pager signals they're coming in
through the hole in the wall you left the hole in
the wall
here's to the atom bomb may everyone find a way
to get on
a little piece of heaven is all you seek in the
same old re-run week after week their faces make
you want to kill the little piece of heaven
singin' on the windowsill
no lights can turn you on pixelate the night
reading the words of your eyes on the streets
where you were born sittin' home waiting for the
coming dawn near the hole in the wall you left a
hole in the wall
Idioma Destino:
away to the side you move your head gravity
fingers dig in your back the strangest man won't
let you breathe rocking on you in a movie scene
his words fill your mouth his guests bleed sick
devoid of touch he lets out to the streets where
you were raised sittin' home waiting for the
coming age you had to wait your turn you had to
wait your turn
wake up early, wash up late satellites connect
you to your hate your patience grows but your
skin is thin the pager signals they're coming in
through the hole in the wall you left the hole in
the wall
here's to the atom bomb may everyone find a way
to get on
a little piece of heaven is all you seek in the
same old re-run week after week their faces make
you want to kill the little piece of heaven
singin' on the windowsill
no lights can turn you on pixelate the night
reading the words of your eyes on the streets
where you were born sittin' home waiting for the
coming dawn near the hole in the wall you left a
hole in the wall