White sun

Spring of wealth

Come for a good time

It's not what I have

Vibrate

Your vacant mind

If I sow a wind now

I will reap a storm

You saw me sliding away from the sun

And tomorrow

Who will come

And put their hand over mine

Mine with the burning shape of a gun

Washed out

Soul of money

Couldn't keep the fire

It's not what I do

Vibrate

It's all I find

Inside the sickness

Rest