Paroles: Ministry. Twelve Inch Singles (1981-1984). Cold Life.
Cold, cold, cold
You know the yolk it's spreading from
You laugh as people scatter 'bout
Surrounded by a veil of stars
You realize that your life is dark
Earth gets colder every day
If scientists could have their way
They'd study us from far away
And watch as people's minds decay
Cold, cold, cold
Your body's in the hands of fools
With swimming pools and low IQ's
There's nothing to see, nothing to do
Buy your stocks and sell your jewels
Bill collectors stole my mail
My wife and kids are all for sale
I hope to God I go to jail
And no one can come up with bail
Cold life, cold life, cold life, cold
Cold, cold, cold
I can't control my buried thoughts
The slightest thing makes me distraught
I'm like the people I once fought
My every action's being bought
Robot trainers earn their pay
As mutant kids go out to play
It's such a pretty, pretty day
With orange nights and days of grey
Cold, cold, cold
I've now become a nervous wreck
I'm getting closer to my death
I keep expecting my last breath
As all my friends just laugh and jest
The earth is such a filthy place
And human such an awful race
And I'd rather live in outer space
Where death goes at a slower pace
Cold life, cold life, cold life, cold
Cold life, cold life, cold life, cold
Cold, cold, cold, cold, cold
You know the yolk it's spreading from
You laugh as people scatter 'bout
Surrounded by a veil of stars
You realize that your life is dark
Earth gets colder every day
If scientists could have their way
They'd study us from far away
And watch as people's minds decay
Cold, cold, cold
Your body's in the hands of fools
With swimming pools and low IQ's
There's nothing to see, nothing to do
Buy your stocks and sell your jewels
Bill collectors stole my mail
My wife and kids are all for sale
I hope to God I go to jail
And no one can come up with bail
Cold life, cold life, cold life, cold
Cold, cold, cold
I can't control my buried thoughts
The slightest thing makes me distraught
I'm like the people I once fought
My every action's being bought
Robot trainers earn their pay
As mutant kids go out to play
It's such a pretty, pretty day
With orange nights and days of grey
Cold, cold, cold
I've now become a nervous wreck
I'm getting closer to my death
I keep expecting my last breath
As all my friends just laugh and jest
The earth is such a filthy place
And human such an awful race
And I'd rather live in outer space
Where death goes at a slower pace
Cold life, cold life, cold life, cold
Cold life, cold life, cold life, cold
Cold, cold, cold, cold, cold
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