In a small club, in a warm resort
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The stoned DJs put on techno and trance
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The morning came, counted the money, went to the sea
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To swim at dawn before going to bed
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There was not enough noise of the city outside the window and rain
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Our boss was selling cocaine in the back room
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Vacationers handed me water with MDMA
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Saying "Hey man, don't be so serious"
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No, it won't rain until May, said Neil
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A cook without a kitchen, a funny uncle
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He looked after us bartenders, sitting in the corner
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To work and not go to the checkout
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Mixed cocktails, washed glasses
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Mint and lime juice corroding hands
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I wrote either an essay or a novel
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Waking up at sunset, then got on a scooter
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And one evening, contrary to all forecasts - boof
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The first drops fell on the forearms and went
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And I shouted wet to a friend, parking at the gate:
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"Fok yu nilu rain from fireplace form me, bro"
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He laughed, showing his gray teeth
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Helped me to drag crates of redbull into the hall
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And he said: “it woz may mistake dear friend
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Last Er on The Earth Evrising For You"
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Chorus:
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The last cocktail before the morning in the stuffiness of the club
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Gene dances with tonic, but beats against the walls in a circle
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This season will end and there will be nothing more
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Time will stop, locking us in their twisted destinies
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First Verse: Waste Paper|Speransky
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The sun covers the cauldron
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Sharpens these swarthy bodies with rays
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No wonder their faces are funny
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Time does not pass, but how the sand crumbles
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In cheap trousers they jump into the water
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Chewing their fruit before a run
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Always ready with a smile to prescribe in the head
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From velvet waves to a brawl like children
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Grandfather or the boy who held his paws in front of me
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Laughed and shouted "Come on with a hundred more hi-kicks"
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Smoking after an evening workout
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Said "With such a tattoo you only go to the ring"
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I went to SevenEleven for soy milk
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The jungle turned black on the horizon, the lights of the shop windows
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Seemed like a strange fiction or someone else's dream
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I put my past from the shelves in a basket
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Under a foreign sky, I filmed like a scarecrow
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Alien old skins one by one
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Into which I recently squeezed in buses
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In which the passport was presented at the checkpoint
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In the novelty, I never came out, although they promised the amount
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Approximately equal to two liters of soy milk
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Days don't line up, they go in circles
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And in the center I take pain in bathing shorts
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Chorus:
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The last cocktail before the morning in the stuffiness of the club
|
Gene dances with tonic, but beats against the walls in a circle
|
This season will end and there will be nothing more
|
Time will stop, locking us in their twisted destinies |