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