Traffic Lights

Riding anywhere now

What would be closer

Than that place you call home

But there is no direction to you

Except green signs and yellow lights

Nothing moves at night

And you still feel cold and bitter

Them it comes up to you

What´s your life but

A fancy fashion magazine

And nobody is gonna ready it

Nobody is gonna follow your empty trends

`Cause they editorial pages are all blank

And the photographer bears no rank

You chat somebody that stops you for a fag

What are you trying to achieve

He says: what does it mean?

You say: what do you want out of your life?

He says: you can´t ask me that

`Cause you don´t want my ideas

You want my opinion

You expect me to say something

Wonderful to change your own life for you

Only you can do it

You say you´re tired of everything you have seen out there

But nothing is original on you, your language

your talk your hair

If you want something original

You better make up your own tunes

You finally make it home

You seem to be alive

You gotta work at seven

It won´t be morning before nine

Recklass driving, recklass drinking

Recklass sleeping, to late to think

To tired of something you don´t seem to figure what is

Another day's born

And the news are gonna broadcast

Your hi-fi is gonna blast

All the facts, sun shine high

The world is normal

Another day to happen rather than live

Now you ask yourself what are you trying to achieve

Rather than follow signs, traffic lights and the paper lines