My colossal waste of time outside of the concert halls, I have been a fraud They look the same to me; it’s the renaissance of killing art, but no one gives a fuck
Cold, oscillating brain; fingers in the ground They lended me technology and now I’ve got to leave Souls shattered on the bones of previous unknowns Cauterize the bloody mess and churn one out for me
Plastic smiles; self-destructive sycophants. Do it and do it again
Consummate in the car. Could you dig me out of this hole? Can you get me out of this? What’s the point of all of these shows? What’s the point of all this? I thought the line did not exist. I thought I was meant for it – Incidentally, so did you I’m nervous and I cannot moveTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
