| I cross the mountains, I plane
|
| I let myself glide over the breeze
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| Slowly, grazing the woods — and you’ll let me go
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| I jump down the stairwell, but the fall is soft
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| Then I run away, free, untouchable
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| Protected by spores
|
| Back to the parallel floor I’m a psychosomatic prey
|
| The more I think negative the more my life fades
|
| Here on the shittiest train or queued up in some gloomy office
|
| Drugged by sex or TV serials —
|
| Bored by the umpteenth useless chat
|
| Just to see her once more under my balls
|
| Watch me as I suffocate in these old trivial thoughts
|
| Subjected to human heaviness, absorbed by this halo of social failure
|
| Drowning among the crowd I feel an impulse of death
|
| Though sadly aware that it’s me the one getting progressively f*cked
|
| Another bolivian guerrilla
|
| Piling up corpses of rich drug-dealers' wives
|
| Reduced to pieces by my unstoppable machete
|
| — a private apocalypse of rapes and blood
|
| Then serbian freedom-fighter torturing a yankee pilot
|
| Fallen with his «invisible» bomber right on my Orthodox Church
|
| Back to the parallel floor I’m a psychosomatic prey
|
| As paranoias increase the spores die away
|
| Here on the shittiest train or queued up in some gloomy office
|
| Drugged by sex or TV serials —
|
| Bored by the umpteenth useless chat
|
| Just to see her once more under my balls
|
| Watch me as I suffocate in these old trivial thoughts
|
| Subjected to human heaviness, absorbed by this halo of social failure
|
| Drowning among the crowd I feel an impulse of death
|
| Though sadly aware that it’s me the one getting progressively f*cked
|
| People’s extinction comes true only in a non-synchronized planet
|
| That roams in the universe
|
| The universe behind my eyes |