Nobody wants to know how the good gets ugly
Because it happens all the time

Nobody wants to know how the rich get smelly
Because it happens all the time

Better the freedom in my head
Than the shackels on my feet

Whispers of love, it seems wrong
But it turns out to be right

Everyone wants to know how the fool gets the girl
Because nobody knows the way to go

Everyone wants to know how the people get to work
Because nobody knows the way to do

Better the freedom in your head
Than the shackels on your feet

Whispers of love, it seems wrong
But it turns out to be right

Nobody wants to know how the sweet gets blue
Because it happens all the time

Nobody wants to know how the apples get sweat
Because it happens all the time