V.I.P.S. - Frankness Of The Pressthroated Person, Who Stays On The Stairs At 5 P.M. Тексты

It's my arm and it's my beauteful eye
My compassion and my running sing
On and on I hear the noise inside me
I think to keep it or not to keep
I was born with a beast,with a hole.
Soul is hole

Enemy lives by my body
He steals my happiness
I don't belong to me

Blackness... Whiteness
Black pale on the fate
Blister...
Fortune...
Shadow...
Pickles...
Wind.
Take him away from me

Enemy lives by my body
He steals my happiness
I don't belong to me