Pressure to perform on New Year's Eve. (Got some) bad
resolutions for you. They told me that every chapter is
from day one on predetermined. So lose your voice and
stop to think. Lose your faith. Stop your plans.
Fine feathers make fine birds. And it's the ignorance
that hurts. Decide which colour you would follow now.
Break the rules of fate. Design your steps with spades.
Stand your ground and keep your lips off lies.
Fine feathers do not make any fine birds.
We will suck up the so called poison and reach every
hazard you built. Melt down the ass-kisser society. So we
will be released from all that pressure day in day out.
So give me one good reason why we should give up the
fight. This is the thought that wakes you up at night:
We're no more the plight.
Correct these lyrics