Letra de This Is Not Hell
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If this is hell... Well that's fine with me.
All of the wonder presumably happily eager to follow the fool that's got into the head.. of me.
We don't have any doubt. We're out there making friends. Unconciously rolling through meanings from pollings the answers are meaner sometimes than the means to our ends.
So this is hell. What else could it be?
Bask in the glories of glorified stories of a basket case who has just broken himself from the weave.
We are not making sense. Who really cares just how we feel? Infantile ramblings of penniless gamblings a fist full of hands swinging clubs at our new baby zeal.
Yeah right.
You think this is hell. Would you care to bet?
Capture the beauty of domestic duty; the hampers are full and our laundry's perpetually wet.
Think about traveling south, find the right something you might have left. Endless the road wish your past to explode, actions remain base but intentions in treble clef.
Yeah right.
This is not hell. This is purgatory.
Caught here in limbo I.Q. of a dim bulb, how many gods does it take, to screw in the likes.. of me.
You'd think one day that I might learn, stare in the light and you cannot see, I've opened my doors of perceptions and can't get them shut, now I feel fucked, for, free,
Everyday.. Yeah, yeah I feel fucked, for, free,
Everyday.. Yeah, yeah we're all fucked.
I left my brain inside of my other head.
You don't impress me, don't depress me, don't supress me, just get undressed.
I left my brain inside of my other head.
The teachers test me, my father blessed me, the pigs arrest me, I get upset.
I left my brain inside of my other head.
You don't impress me, don't depress me, don't supress me, just undress me, the teachers test me, my father blessed me, the pigs arrest me, I get upset.
Boo Hoo.
All of the wonder presumably happily eager to follow the fool that's got into the head.. of me.
We don't have any doubt. We're out there making friends. Unconciously rolling through meanings from pollings the answers are meaner sometimes than the means to our ends.
So this is hell. What else could it be?
Bask in the glories of glorified stories of a basket case who has just broken himself from the weave.
We are not making sense. Who really cares just how we feel? Infantile ramblings of penniless gamblings a fist full of hands swinging clubs at our new baby zeal.
Yeah right.
You think this is hell. Would you care to bet?
Capture the beauty of domestic duty; the hampers are full and our laundry's perpetually wet.
Think about traveling south, find the right something you might have left. Endless the road wish your past to explode, actions remain base but intentions in treble clef.
Yeah right.
This is not hell. This is purgatory.
Caught here in limbo I.Q. of a dim bulb, how many gods does it take, to screw in the likes.. of me.
You'd think one day that I might learn, stare in the light and you cannot see, I've opened my doors of perceptions and can't get them shut, now I feel fucked, for, free,
Everyday.. Yeah, yeah I feel fucked, for, free,
Everyday.. Yeah, yeah we're all fucked.
I left my brain inside of my other head.
You don't impress me, don't depress me, don't supress me, just get undressed.
I left my brain inside of my other head.
The teachers test me, my father blessed me, the pigs arrest me, I get upset.
I left my brain inside of my other head.
You don't impress me, don't depress me, don't supress me, just undress me, the teachers test me, my father blessed me, the pigs arrest me, I get upset.
Boo Hoo.
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