Chrome
ANDERS NYSTROM, FREDRIK NORRMAN, JONAS PETTER RENKSE
The walls are painted
Different every second
My eyes are of chrome
It is television
Can't let go of my leg
It's itching and bleeding
Layer by layer
I'm peeling away
Burn down my house
And make something happen
Stab me in the heart
And make something stop
Cause I am so distracted
I am slightly shocked
By how things can keep going
Like a dead man's clock
A mirror is hanging
Kinda loose on my wall
I'm passing it sideways
I'm saying hello
My brother is halfways
Through a book I've left him
Called me today
To see what I'd say