You can't trust the adults
Their hair is thinning, so are their pants
We're going to build a lot of walls
Because they're horrible
We want to lie in our rooms
And smooch until we're tired
New hymns, old lies
Been singing at their tables
We're babies
They don't understand us
We're babies
We spit in their faces
Everything is so cyclical
And yet unchangeable
Spoiled love is comfortable
But its hell reveals itself to us
Immediately< br/>And our desires, dreams, fears
And our sexuality
Our war and our dances
Don't scratch it
It's closed for them late
We are babies
They don't raise us
We are babies
We spit in their faces
We are babies
We are babies
We are babies
We are babies

INVIA LE CORREZIONI