on a morning in november you were blinded by the sun in your place that makes you feel so safe from everyone you re totally oblivious to world poverty not affected by the millions that you don t see and so we toast to opportunity and talk about the weather although we never look each other in the eye we are paranoid and out of step with every word that we just said we all sound fucking crazy and no one can lie down in their own bed in a moment you will tell us of your own personal hell i m starting to believe that everyone is for themselves we really don t have an eternity to make our dreams come true but thinking for tomorrow isn t in you on my way down to the city i was looking out the window at some point you learned to look the other way we re so desperate it s dangerous we basically have lost our heads responsible for nothing but taking credit where ever we can and so we live under the garden where we can hide and not smell the dregs of earth beneath the sun of the same planet inherit wealth inherit dirt