Trainspotting
Running around the house with the passion in my hands
The passion I can taste, it's mixed with juse.
In the bottle in my hands
Everything seems so surreal lately
What kind of overdose shall I take
I can't think of anything
There's nothing left to overdose
The pillow that I lay upon, now seems to be the keyboard.
I'll just keep on running, now where is my mind?
In the bottle of passion mixed with juse perhaps?
Nah, it surely ain't there, the bottle is emptied in my body.
I've been screwing on the tracks of future
Let it slip, I just won
The passion now is gone