Shoot, gentlemen, those roses
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Of those, the flower never fails
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The puget from the shooting range at «Černý krasavice»
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It will rejuvenate you for years
|
Shoot, gentlemen, those roses
|
Of those, the flower never fails
|
The puget from the shooting range at «Černý krasavice»
|
It will rejuvenate you for years
|
One painter at the shooting range
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He picked up a rifle from the counter
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He covered one eye with algae
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The other guarded the fly
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He hit the rose with each blow
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Paper, painted
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Until they were a puget
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Then he invited me to the pub
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From which a long staircase led
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To the land where he lived
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To the land where he lived
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He called it the studio
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He had strange things there
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Broken, scattered
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Like remnants of passion
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He narrated until morning
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About Dorian's portrait
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Ancient story
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About how the image changed
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According to what you've been through
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Mr. Dorian Gray
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Mr. Dorian Gray
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Shoot, gentlemen, those roses
|
Of those, the flower never fails
|
The puget from the shooting range at «Černý krasavice»
|
It will rejuvenate you for years
|
Shoot, gentlemen, those roses
|
Of those, the flower never fails
|
The puget from the shooting range at «Černý krasavice»
|
It will rejuvenate you for years
|
He chased me naked
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She stood by the painting
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To the image I would make young
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It happened forever
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Maybe I liked the picture
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Maybe I liked the painter
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I got up there
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And then through that painting
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We have come to love
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I still have the picture
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I still have the picture
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The picture hangs above the shooting range
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I don't like him anymore
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It reminds me of my youth
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He shows his back
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Perhaps the painter tried little
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The painting failed
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He doesn't change his face
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But every new pilgrimage
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I'm getting older and I'm sad
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That the painter was a liar
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That the painter was a liar
|
Shoot, gentlemen, those roses
|
Of those, the flower never fails
|
The puget from the shooting range at «Černý krasavice»
|
It will rejuvenate you for years
|
Shoot, gentlemen, those roses
|
Shoot, gentlemen, those roses
|
Shoot, gentlemen, those roses
|
Shoot yourself, gentlemen. |
On those roses… |