The past times, things go wrong The wild swings, the heavy hits, in the back of some car The wild hope, down the stairs, with lilies waiting tall Painkill mixed with knockout from your locker, waiting to hit you The bright light, the high load, all your sinister wicked rolls, And all my time was wasted We look at things in a wrong set of colors Kisses a sunset, a razor a gun We want it all but the price is a horror, and it would be you A blind spot, a long face, listening from far You've got the bends, a phobia, waiting to hit you The bright light, the high load You never know when he comes And all the time was wasted On wasteful things