PREMATURE (THE KILLING ACT)

PREMATURE (THE KILLING ACT)
Eduardo B. Penteado



Days go by, and here am I
Painting pictures in the sky
Wasting time to picture you
Is all that I have left to do
The irony is so uncompromising

Then I came to recognize
Someone yelling deep inside
How could I believe in lies
How could I believe my eyes
It's the little child in me who dies

As I fumble for the gun
There ain't nowhere left to run
The crowds roll in, the lights go out
The killing act's about to start
In the dark the child is scared, and cries

Life and death are suicide
I tried to run, I tried to hide
How could I believe in lies
How could I believe my eyes
It's the little child in me who dies.