I can see what’s coming over.
I’m predicting what you want.
It’s a trip in endless summer,
To the place where sand is hot.
Where large waves are spraying faces.
There are cocktails and some palms.
We are asking for his grace, dear,
But this place is not for us.
We are destined to suffer.
Our hearts feel so damn cold.
Our souls are from dark matter.
Every word we say is “no”.
No to try to be sincere.
No to try to see if “yes”
Wasn’t only our desire
To have fun from drugs and sex.