I have, I have some life to kill I can, I can be there for you I have this history to draw upon I know I have it all again to do I have it all again to
I can kiss you when I need to I can crush you when you're mean I can have you in the morning with my dirty magazines You're my constant sticky finger
Thanks for calling Mister Michael But he's not feeling well His back is aching, heart is breaking You've reached a private hell I choose to be alone,
This is the fog It's really not so bad Like a homeland As if I need a home Well I need a home This is the fog It's really not so bad Like a dreamland
This is what I am This is how you come to grips A plastic image, glass and metal Legs and arms, teeth and lips (and me) This is freedom This is what we
There must be something about me That makes you stare There must be something inside me That makes you scared There must be something you see That I can
You are my addiction My pleasure and my pain You're my infection Disease you burn my vein My fate is frozen, it's a destiny you fix You are my addiction
Hey little boy, what you writing in the notebook Ain't you got nothing to do Wait I know, you're gonna be a rock star It couldn't happen to you Huh,
Empty heart that overflows I cry words, emotion, picture shows They document the years And free my flowing tears Flow my tears It's such a waste of endless
The book that I live in is such a masterpiece man It doesn't mean a thing unless I make it, yeah The text is all in code that only I understand It's another
Пераклад: Pale Divine. Гора.
Telle une mouche lethargique, Je zone sur le canape Telle une mouche lethargique, Je zone sur le canape J'ai vide le paquet de chips J'ai fini le fromage
corruptin' record companies Nigga, jump for cheese, catch sub-zero freeze And crack once the atmosphere brings the temperature back Sacks only in dress pants Have you ever danced with the devil in pale
You don't need divine intervention For all the things that you never can face You don't need good intentions Cause in the end it is all just a waste We
[Written by Steven Wilson] Telepath Carbon trapped under stone Brother mother pale body is thrown Only way I know to have fun Fill up my blood, my veins
people I've seen Simply pale into view when compared Cross my heart Cross my fingers Hold my breath The space and time Our souls entwine We are touching something Spiritual and divine
roads take me home to the place that I belong Lost skeleton bones, locked in the closet deep family secrets Discover this recovery my brothers in sequence Ever had to dance with the devil in pale
