BLACKOUT PROBLEMS - Space

The protest rests between the graves,
The happy songs, the sad, sad slaves,
5 to 9 or 9 to 5,
The danger or the safe, safe life.
I'm sick of the routine,
We work to exist, we exist for the working,
Stuck in our daydreams,
The question remains what the fuck are we doing here?
Free as the sea, heavy as the shore,
We all have enough but always want more,
The shit that I own makes me someone I'm not,
Give me a second to give up all that I've got.
Take me back home,
The protest is over,
Take me back home,
The cameras remain,
Take me back home,
We sell our freedom day by day,
Take me back home,
Our dreams are imprisoned we're numbered by names.
Deep inside our daily trot,
We love the things we're so sick of,
We barely talk, we barely speak,
We're old enough, accept defeat,
I will not believe,
That I'm half as content as the smile on my face seems,
Stuck in my daydreams,
The question remains what the fuck am I doing here?

Written by:
Marcus Schwarzbach, Mario Radetzky, Michael Dreilich

Publisher:
Lyrics © BMG Rights Management, Peermusic Publishing

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