We get our drugs from our pharmacists. Are we all getting ready for the moving day? We have all become over-worried these days. Or maybe we're just accepting it. A hundred different pens are telling the same story. A hundred different sheets on a hundred different floors. This is our last chance to fuck it up. We noticed that the stars are just stars And that there's just nothing more to it. I guess we already fucked it up big time. Who will breathe for us? Where did our talents go?