The Race. Lyrics

Detachment Kit The Race.

these mysterious games, that everyone plays, as the
copters flew in & the panic begins. lady of luck, will
you carry me out, will you fill out these charts, will
you tear me apart, no one ever makes me feel, no on ever
pays to steal, make a place where i can heal, where no
one ever goes. i wish i was like you, i wish i were brand
new, i want to reach out & find you. wait here, reach
out, over here.