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A bag of nervesI seem to suppressAlien of beingNot known to duressMoonshine, moonshineThere's something in the hillsI cannot possessAs dark as SundayWe're woven againI pack no meaningI'm shrunken in vainMoonshine, moonshineI'm bleak as TuesdayI seek no applauseNot really like meRefuse to go onMy faith has been surely firedI'm schooled in the test of timeMoonshine, moonshineThere's something in the hillsI cannot possessI'm deaf as ThursdayI seek to explodeOne hour dailyI work to implodeMoonshine, moonshine From Letras Mania