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    Feeling Ugly, Looking pretty
    Yellow Ribbons, Black Graffiti
    Word is written, Bond is broken
    No big secret left unspoken
    Sun is painted in the corner
    But it's never getting warmer
    All the lies they keep on selling
    But you never check the spelling

    Flying Bullets
    Hit the targets
    Wings and halos
    Five to seven
    In these white robes
    Through the darkness
    Para gliding
    Back to heaven

    Time is running, we are sitting
    Back together just for splitting
    You are crying in the corner
    Always next and never former
    Open up and let me hear it
    Former body, future spirit
    Brain is useless, chair is rocking
    Open doors for dead man walking

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