Presley

Living here's no paradise, never makes the news, so hard to be nice, might as well be space, people here like glue, stuck to a lunar landscape, everyone needs a better life, show what they can do, escape from all the spite, one song still remains, a feeling far from nrw, longs for constant states, this place is our life, shaping something to lose, beneath two sodium lights, what it is to dissipate, that tune within our blood, throws every payment late, brings us sassy nights, when we escape the truth, better that we lie, laughing at our blues.