|
Here downstairs in the underground |
|
Nobody can notice him |
|
He seems to be invisible |
|
There's obsession in his eyes |
|
Walking back and forth all day |
|
Touching nervous his soiled tie |
|
Wondering how could be his life |
|
If he had kept that fucking job |
|
Once I was there and he told me about his life |
|
Shining light in his eyes |
|
And a smile to show me his pride |
|
So self-assured |
|
He said: "I take all life can give |
|
Every joy, every good I've deserved" |
|
But now there is no sign of all the previous pride |
|
And he told me |
|
'Man, these rails will bleed |
|
What does life mean? |
|
I've got no more will to live |
|
Buried under a grave of broken dreams |
|
I'm a victim of reality' |
|
Fills all his mind, expands like a fire |
|
One way to escape from this misery |
|
Out of the gallery the lights of the train |
|
Are getting closer to save him from pain |
|
And he told me |
|
'Man, these rails will bleed |
|
What does life mean? |
|
I've got no more will to live |
|
Buried under a grave of broken dreams |
|
I'm a victim of reality' |
