Now the party's over and everyone has
left but you and you're never ceasing,
ever flowing questions which have made you famous.
You are asking me if I'm about to be a star,
if I'm a lover at all,
don't I drink too much and what I think about ***.
But I feel that no matter how hard I try to explain,
everybody will hear something different tomorrow.
I know too well what you make of the things I told you now.
It's no fun at all,
where are your friends, have they all gone?
Well
I tried to tell the story of the man who's
had his wallet stolen and honestly believes
that his money will be spent in the fight
against the vivisection and now you seem a
bit confused because you don't know what I've come up with.
Still is there a hidden meaning
far beyond you?
And it's sad,
oh so sad to observe how you pretend you always
know what I mean when I'm speaking nonsense.
I know too well what you make of the things I told you now.
It's no fun at all,
where are your friends,
have they all gone?
I know too well what you make of the things I told you now.
I know too well what you make of the things I told you now.