Psycho

I’m a psycho, you’re a psycho, all of them are nuts
Shouting, crying, bleeding, tearing…
There’re just guts inside of us.

       We think we keep a secret in our brittle genes,
       And feeing ourselves like heroes, put cigarettes in the pocket of jeans.
       But what is the “mission from god” that we’re dreaming again and again,
       If even the picture of heaven is the illusion of our moribund brain?

       The cells are dividing, the animals’re mating, that’s all is infinite,
       We’re living, we’re singing, we’re analyzing our actions and feelings.
       The world now is crowded of tragedies of single individuals,
       We’re hating each other but keep on believing in the true love of spirits.

I’m a psycho, you’re a psycho, all of them are nuts
Shouting, crying, bleeding, tearing…
There’re just guts inside of us.

       We all are romantic, we all are destroyers, we all are made of meat,
       We need self-perfection, we wanna be loved and we still want to eat.
       Mechanism of human is so short-lived but it’s so ambitious,
       The roles are assigned, start acting, just know your position.

       Something is waiting for you, something which’s called the death.
       Your bones will mix with the ground as well as your wealth,
       So, tell me, what is the “mission from god” that you’re dreaming again and again,
       If even the picture of heaven is the illusion of your moribund brain?

I’m a psycho, you’re a psycho, all of them are nuts
Shouting, crying, bleeding, tearing…
There’re just guts inside of us.