Angles, pole held in hiding Catches dead fish, timorous rhythm, ceaseless Ruptured... caressus Catches dead fish and pours into pocket, at length
At length aware of death, rushes on Wings of dread... for Familiar tree, oblivious of Pants, dry and warm change Shackles locked with blessings Opens book in exhaustion And lectures on ichthyic reproduction
Vocation and responsibility True winds of perdition trying to release, to cool Trying to strengthen, but safe and righteous mirages Bring low the desperate prayer Money and me, we'll get any old tree And money's the same whatever the gameTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
