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You won't see me walking out of any door. We can only make a killing if our clouded heads stop. We stay rehearsing numbers one and four and it always just leads to me repeating/singing, "Where did you come from? Where did you go?" And I lost a lot of love to pills and cigarettes, 'cause they always fill the gaps til there is no room left. I thought I'd learn a lesson but my mind kept sleeping and it always just leads me to repeating/singing "Where did you come from? Where did you go?" I'll mess my head forevermore and my whole life feels like living in a constant confessional, I'm too goddamn confessional From Letras Mania