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.