Slideshow

It's a numbers game
I've got a record of a dull day
Shots filling up, filling up a hard drive
The dark arts are getting lost
In a machine home
The sound of a thousand musicals

Well all I can do is talk
Well all I can do is talk
And I've probably never had an original thought

A numbers game
A damn phonebook does a balancing act on a spinning plate
The screen is my half-brother
Just another, just another
When the desert is ground to dust I wish still I can't be won
Pablo said and he's never ever ever wrong

Well all I can do is talk
Well all I can do is talk
And I thought we're getting closеr but we're further apart

Fashion a sun
Lеading from the back
A dead type in an old press-pack
Well who owns the sky?
Well who owns sky?
Why you never, you never saw it coming, walking out looking straight backwards

Well all I can do is talk
Well all I can do is talk
And I thought we're getting closer but we're further apart

Well you're well-fed
In a wealthy way
Well you're well-fed
In a wealthy way

Well all I can do is talk
Well all I can do is talk
My God, I've never had an original thought