paroles de chanson What's the Secret Ingrediant of a Toilot? - Snooze

Ill temper, have you become simpler
Still such shrillness
Stillness nowhere to be found

To be grounded and possess some contentedness or purpose
Would ruin, lessen
The urgency of it all

You have me to thank for what we've become
Come, wallow in me

Yes, I have to admit you're in me
Yes, I realize who we are
Will you make me burn us alive
Or will our bridges suffice