Same Old Story کے بول

Some people got: more kicks than halfpence and cry for attention, like cracks in the pavement And all of this pointed, like perfect TV When you're sowing the wind, you reap the whirlwind Who gets the mansions-we get the ruins Same old story YOur flexible nature, serving no purpose Like a terrible artist, using no shadow And the king of the castle, is pulling new shapes Gilding the lilies, and all of them fakes typical tragic, small house and small street Narrow the outlook, small minded coomplete The emperor's new clothes, get clearer and clearer Dictate to the fingers, that tighten the trigger And the king of the castle is pulling new shapes Life is a poison, it begins at home Pride is a trinket, a security blanket You could tangle the spiders on the webs that we weave