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I'm working at a service station Working myself into the ground I don't have a sink to wash my face in What about the information? New Beetles are coming from every wave Crowds that come here to worship and pay I heard 'em on the radio station What about the information? [Chorus] And you try and you try and you try and you try And you point to the sky and you don't know why In a book or a face you will look for your place And you point to the sky and you don't know why... why... why... why Ministers fall into Presidents' clothes Presidents fall into evil control This is the hole I put my faith in What about the information? [Chorus] Spoon it up slowly until they come [x2] [Chorus] From Letras Mania