IRC-Galleria

People walking, sleeping, talking
Don't seem to see beyond themselves
People walking, breathing, talking
Nobody sees the ones that fell

Red faced man with curly blond hair
Standing in the same spot
For the past three days
Just watch people pass him by
Green bottle in his hand
And he doesn't understand
Where the folks in the cars
And the trams and the cabs all
Keep rushing, fast to find
There must be something I don't know
Some hidden rainbow, a pile of gold or
Free drinks for everyone
Maybe I can go, my lady luck is low
I play, rewind and know my fate is not to glow
It shrinks behind the sun
So this is it, it's not going to get any better, no brighter
He missed, he tripped
Clings to a cigarette but doesn't have a lighter
His fist insists he's going to fight back
Cause he knows he's a fighter
Unless this is it

You will never know how it feels...