Bubblehead

Spinning on a mound of battered and rival fools, and freaks look out We really are the same behind our smiles of plasticine Siting on a sofa, going over catch me in your hands Stuck inside a vacuum...

In here you are a pale shade of cream, Weightless, attractive, a disposable dream. Yeah, reality is an empty space. You can make things happen, you can sit and waste. Space, fill it with holes and...