Terminal State - Front 242

What about the figures?

What about the facts?

What about the outbreaks?

What about ourselves?

What about the figures?

They don’t stop climbing

What about the outbreak?

It keeps on spreading

See it gaining ground

Digging in the wound

We’re in the doldrums

Quantizing is frightening

The facts are blinding

Time is dragging

The facts are blinding

We’re a party in a suit

Now the worm is in the fruit

See it gaining ground

Digging in the wound

We’re in the doldrums

You could make it just around the block

It’s able to sneak in any lock

On your shoulder there, is it a pock?

Will the scales ever fall from your eyes?

What about the figures?

They don’t stop climbing

What about the outbreak?

It keeps on spreading

Now the lines are converging

To the point of no return

See it gaining ground, amplifying the wound

A disaster

(You name it!)

A disaster occurs

Under your very eyes

See it gaining ground

Digging in the wound

We’re in the doldrums

The doldrums

The outbreak

Disaster

The facts

The lines