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No alarms and no pretty garden

Cracked eggs, dead birds…
I can’t help the feeling, I could break through the ceiling
blame it on the satellite that beams me home

And it wears me out…

he talks in maths, he buzzes like a fridge
with no alarms and no surprises
You broke another mirror, you’re turning into something you are not

And it wears you out…

I want you to notice, when I’m not around
Pull me out of the aircrash
I’m on a roll this time, I feel my luck could change

Just like your dad, you’ll never change

p.s. There is no need to reason everything