before theya??re born And no one ever smiles The writers and the artists, all are paid to tell us lies To keep us locked inside, they keep us locked inside
I'm locked inside A land called foolish price Where the man is always right He hates to talk but loves to fight Is that all right? On real cold days
: I'm locked inside A land called foolish price Where the man is always right He hates to talk but loves to fight Is that all right? On real cold days
