Текст: Napalm Death. Death By Manipulation. Changing Colours.

Adapting to different surroundings
Changing views day by day
Too critical of others
When you too are at fault

Several sets of opinions
Like colours to camouflage yourself
Like a fox sly in your manoeuvres
Too soon you'll get caught unawares

Sometimes I feel pity
Sometimes I feel hatred ...
Sometimes you're my friend
Sometimes you're my enemy

I'll never give you the satisfaction
Of knowing how I feel