He will leave a thin trace in the hemispheres of the brain
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I draw a map of the room with my fingers on lime
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The one-eyed image is looking for a bus in the field
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Until he arrives, I stir the cartridges in the mud
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The downpour will flood the roads, it will drag the wheels
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You thought it was a complicated world, but it's more complicated than simple
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The voice is stronger than the shot, I will run so fast
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Having caught up with the lonely bus, I will become its prize
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On batteries all around, I run inside
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Birds fly south, the forest resembles cigarette butts
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I'm sleeved through the windows, the conductor is playing for time
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Puts lipstick on lips pale as a ghost
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I look with one eye at points of rapid movements
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I'm not looking for inspiration, I need a wider road
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Get a dog, she will give feelings
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Place it in your heart and it's not empty anymore
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Meanwhile, the stars began to flash in the sky
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I kept looking out the window and watching incest
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Make recordings from the spot, hear the music of childhood
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Take notes in the margins of a special play book
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Scars on the skin, let the lines lie down
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Today there is freedom, make a hundred copies
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I do not flog for my blood, I need pasta with juice
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The bus drove far, love the sea sand
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I deleted my account and my hitchhiking around the world
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This shit comes out, close yourself in the apartment
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Put up fences, protect your resources
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I remain myself, spoil my pluses
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One is my rap, two is my name is No Mo
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You think I'm immortal, put a bullet in my forehead
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The violins of the soul sound in me, I recorded the melody
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I need a sheet and a pencil, keep the podium
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Burnt houses become food for the soil
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Roadsides and pigeons are tired of living for the mail
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Mothers ask for money, people are unfair
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They said they abolished slavery, but I don't think so
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We can take hundreds of octaves, inseminate all women
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The revolution in me is the wet dreams of a teenager
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The bus creaks, reminding me of willpower
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I was in love with many people, but they deceived
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Strikethrough lines, crane cries
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After the murder, my hero does not wipe his hands
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He is constantly moving, cannot catch his breath,
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But you can be sure he won't leave a chance
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Cloudy topic, he is a defector of meanings
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The bus breaks the edge and flies off the pier
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He sees panic as people pull out piercings
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Lying at the bottom, where it is quiet, the hero looked at the sun
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You hear steps, wheels are knocking
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I want to reach for the stars. |