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1979Artist: JehstAlbum: High Plains Drifter EPJehst High Plains Drifter EP 1979
I bleed liquid gold and slur speech in a cryptic code
my feet slipping on this twisted road only the mystic knows the lone figure in the distance no bigger than the sum of his enscriptions or the extent of his conviction I'll sip vitamin enriched liquid diction and digest fiction for culture, i force fed code the monster my head and net connected by a pole Try to hold things together like the skins i fold take my food for thought with a pinch of salt true to form, my sin results in self doubt look into my eyes i dont need to spell it out you can see it, how i tripped and fell down and picked myself up, turned myself round from the cliffs edge and staggered home like a misled piss head i put up a fight, till my fist bled I choke on lead, until my spits red when i step outside to get a quick breath of fresh debt no theres no air left, and 50% of us couldnt care less, i bare flesh exposed to the cancerous light like tearing the film, out ya cameras im still ravenous, i feel my stomach acid keep burning as i work towards another classic melt ya plastic chat snatch ya comfort blanet in this cold world your naked and un-attractive and ya tactics are underhanded i hibernate through the winter and wait for the summer madness Call me the dirty stop out, fetus on the couch stout on my breath and a bad case of desert mouth forever drowing my pain in the pleasent sound of whispered words and rainfall on little ground gaged and bound with no hope of gettin out save the secrets and lies, im trying to settle down but like the weather now, im unpredictable my hates bitter but my loves unconditional living in this digital age, these are strange days my rage tamed, and freed on the same page i make waves, till i wash away the refuge god of the sea, these are the eight moons of neptune i make moves to refuge, but dont sleep i walk the street, with a rose in my teeth and a bitter sweet song in my heart i take every step, the hard headed dont ever rest so till the very end, i wont ever rest i serenade my angel with every breath god sends in rememerence of lost friends whenever my cold tent drops, i know what went on then provokes me to focus ahead close my eyes and get close to the dead I'm the ghost that begs to be released from limbo between two worlds like the theif at the window Smashing Pumpkins: 1979 Blur: 1992 На сайте функционирует система коррекции ошибок. Обнаружив неточность в тексте, выделите её и нажмите Ctrl+Enter.
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