Is there a limit to trust or do we all walk blinded? When the grounds end, Will we stop or will we keep running? I guess were good at believing, With hands on our eyes, Hands on our ears And guns in our mouth A blade in the skull And a good job at the fucking mall I've been worried And don't really know Why we still wave through the shit Staring at the skies We hate what we do, We hate where we go, But still have to smile with a scarf hiding the rope I like walking alone Parrots ain't no good company Can't you shut up and take your hand off my shoulder? I'll cut off this arm, though it takes me forever I've been worried But don't really know Why keep running And where we go