Lyrics: The Sound Of Animals Fighting. Uzbekistan.

They're defecting us
They're extracting us
The world owes me nothing, it's given me a great deal
Is this emptiness part of being human?
They're defecting us
They're extracting us

Away from all the children we can feel the walls that you've made
All the fears are mine, paper planes and time (time)

Fly away from all the children we feel the walls that you've made
All your fears are mine, paper planes and time (time)
[x4]

Time is the only distance to the artist and the masterpiece
Running around our business, explaining what I should've picked
Sitting in a single chair with papers on the wall
Twiddling your rubber thumbs in a sea of alphabetical

Let your arm break in pain you'll find the truth
Let your mind escape the burning of logic and proof

(The world owes me nothing. Let's turn our boredom to gratitude)

I love love love
I want want want
I need need need
I am am am
[x2]
I love love love

This emptiness

They're defecting us
They're extracting us
The world owes me nothing, it's given me a great deal

Who wrote your words
Who sews your strings
Who built your boats
Who placed your paths
[x4]
Who wrote your words

Why do I wonder?
Some people never ask, what are you thinking?
Who's in charge?

I don't understand French, but if I could,
I would write beautiful songs about horrible things...
because it is said to be the language of love and romance...
and if love didn't exist, there wouldn't be any horrible things.
You must care to cry, love something in order to hate something...
You must have a heart in order for it to be broken.
Many people walk in a dream.
They feel entitled to happiness and feel anger when it is not waiting for them.
I know that the world owes me nothing, yet has given me a great deal.
It is our own perception we get to bend and mold to our liking-
once that is accomplished, the reality we once knew begins to change.
My neighbor may be dark and gloomy, but I find it a perfect day to go outside.
I can knock on his door, but that doesn't mean he will answer.
And I will have to walk away, sad, from his little house
where he sleeps and smokes and drinks all day,
just to escape what he does not yet know.
We find ourselves in little boxes watching little boxes.
We see an edited version of human life, targeted on alienating us as individuals,
to distract us from the seedy underbelly of politics and business.
We are products of a Machiavellian society.
Look at the pretty girl dancing- her hair is so shiny.
I want my hair to be shiny. Look at the man with chizzled features-
use the razor he is using. It will give you the kind of charm that woman crave.
Women will want you. Men will adore you. You will be happy. You will be empty.
Because it is not about the product, but the feeling they try to convey.
And it is not for your benefit, it is for the benefit of the holders of the company.
We must burn our little boxes. We must create dialogue.
We must realize the importance of every moment.
We must turn our boredom to gratitude.
Use your hands, your thoughts, your hunger.
These things are yours and yours alone