The walls of books around him, dense with the past, formed a kind of insulation against the present world and its disasters.
Ross MacDonald
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Biên tập viên
What Kind of Living
Well it’s not working anymore
I’m stuck in things I’ve always done before
I am broken, I am sore
I don’t wanna live in here anymore
Oh, something’s got to go
I’ve gone and made myself sick
Smoking cigarettes, being such a dictator
And sooner or later I’ll die
And nobody there will even think to cry
What kind of living is that?
Oh, something’s got to go
What kind of living is that?
Oh, oh yeah
What kind of living is that?
And it’s not easy being here
I run in circles like I’ve done for years
I am angry, and I am scared
How much more till I disappear
Oh, something’s got to go
I’ve gone and made myself ill
Wasting time, I’m stuck in years of frustration
I’ve never been patient at all
I can’t run until I learn to crawl
What kind of living is that?
Oh, oh yeah
What kind of living is that?
No-no-no-no-no, something’s got to go
Well, I’ve gone and made myself sick
Smoking cigarettes, being such a dictator
And sooner or later I’ll die
And nobody there will even think to cry
What kind of living is that?
Oh no-no-no, oh no-no
What kind of living is that?
Oh no-no-no-no-no-no
What kind of living is that?
What kind of living is that?
What kind of living is that?