Take your little hand
Guide it through my soul
We are all asleep, we don't wake up
Until were old
Think about it hard
Think about it slow
We are all just Juvenile delinquents
Without no home
Think about the heart
Think about the home
Think about the little voice inside
Of your soul
Take the yellow pill
Guide you to the left
Are you really you or just a vacant bag of stone
Bite the hand that kills
Every little pleasure
Monolithic ideals measure
Up your toll
Think about the heart
Think about the home
Think about the little voice inside
Of your soul