Attic

Yeah, I see me laying on the attic space

I don’t need anybody, I don’t need anything to say

Yeah, I’m sitting, listening to Page and Plant

An old guitar, a glass of wine, smoking and making plans

And I’m shitting to bullshit that people say

A broken heart makes you think on the other way

While I’m hearing what Robinson brothers said

I can calm down, restore my soul and send the anger away

This ceiling with all different kinds of plagues

Pieces of foam keep on falling right on my face


And I’m shitting to bullshit that people say

A broken heart makes you think on the other way