On the way to Reckonite
The chameleons say hi
The turbulent metaphora
Will arise and weave
Nothing more as planned
Programmed to react
The toreador in our head
Won't get up fast
/Ooh well
Ooh well
//There's not much to say
Not much to think
There's not much to look for
Just stuff to live
There's no way you knew
The things that turned out true
There's something within us
That makes us blush
That makes our urges rush
