Spiritual Beggars Picking From The Box
Taking my mind away off things that makes me blind Now I can't even sleep when I'm drunk But I'm feeling just fine, you see to me its not so bad dreaming away back home But I wonder why you keep picking from the foodbox seems so strange to waste your life that could bring so much Blinded by fake you rush right into the failiure trap Bitter blood reveals You keep kissing the strings of hope You pray to keep them warm But somehow you always wake up cold I know its hard to breake away from here But you've got to lean on dreams to make them real Money ain't all that counts when the day is done Harmony is not something you buy But keep on raping yourself you fake You ain't got the guts to change Poison yourself cos you're scared to loose, what!
