Stuck in the middle of Tuesday, it's five pm and I'm waiting for the sun to go down
from the view of my forth floor room. Aesthetic veiws of the landscape,
my heart caves in, this is the love of our lives but I fear that it's course has come near.
For we take, we take to make our unconquered lives of greed and luxury.
It's far to late now for it's, disappearing one by one, cause we can't stop the killing so.
You can set the portal for outtaspace...yeah.. We're going to outtaspace we can't live here no more no. Shuttle number fifty four. We could, we should.
Our lack of sharing and caring, has drawn it's last straw,
this is the time that we fly, to a place that accepts our kind.
Depleating earthly resources, our world becomes thin,
nothing left for the next of kin, does this not bother you one bit.
You can set the portal for outtaspace....yeah... Where going to outtaspace we can't live here no more no. Shuttle number fifty four. to outtaspace...yeah
Where going to outtaspace. Take your malice aboard
You know why cause we take and she dies
For we build we shake knowingly decapitate, some grief in mind but we never take the time. Now it's too late, now it's too late.
The world becomes small we hang nuclear bombs over our neighbours' heads,
how crazy does this get. Now it's too late, now it's too late.