Clock\'s ticking its almost 6pm.
Old rusty chairs and smell of burnt cigarette fills the room.
I am well aware of me mind blowin\' in the wind,
and me soul sleeping like a log!
Rather be blind than stuck in em\' falsy firecracker,
rather be dead than caged inside em\' concrete walls.
Wrap me around and take me heart,
zip it up and sail em\' to the wonderland.
Leave the remaining skin n bones,
but if love ever wins, sail me to the wonderland!