Die Nasty Qui-Ling
Sore Plexus
The ability to descry is a game of skill, train your mind
Easier to learn the ropes than to find the sense of life
Every second of a minute, every hour of a day
I don't want to abandon all hope
But who lives on hope will die of hunger this is our fate
Fool you all time you won't notice
Hammering on a nail that just won't go in is easy for me
However when I hear you talk it is so hard to keep self-control
Every month of every year surrounded by
Foolish simpletons
Torture my ears give offence to intelligence
Beware of ignorance
Fight so hard on your tongue that speaks out
Searching for a life (that) I'm unable to find
Will I ever be able to see, let alone to understand
False promises you can't keep, I have doubts, so disappear
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