Feeling ugly, looking pretty
Yellow ribbons, black graffiti
Word is written, bond is broken
No big secret left unspoken
Sun is painted in the corner
But it's never getting warmer
All the lies they keep on selling
But you never check the spelling

Flying bullets
Hit the targets
Wings and halos
Five to seven
In these white robes
Through the darkness
Para gliding

Back to heaven

Time [bad word]  we are sitting
Back together just for splitting

You are crying in the corner
Always next and never former
Open up and let me hear it
Former body, future spirit
Brain is useless, chair is rocking
Open doors for dead man walking

Flying Bullets
Hit the targets
Wings and halos
Five to seven
In these white robes
Through the darkness
Para gliding