| Toward one:
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| Face on the ground and broken wings, broken and torn wings, shot down
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| from a whole world of armed struggles, another
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| among the many lives buried and asleep in this
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| long dream of a midsummer night, man
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| I can not fly but I have to try here I try
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| angels but I only see rotten and I can't stay there
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| all my efforts to go out and succeed
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| in a hostile context, but they fail to understand me are
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| alone, between failures and gold rushes
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| and you go to work and in the meantime you dream of flying, tell me if
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| everything went as you thought or if
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| you don't cry because you don't even have tears anymore, life isn't
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| easy? |
| man life kills, you can read it
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| in the eyes of a rotten man even when he laughs, written
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| on the arm in the space between the wounds and incise a
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| skin that stands between murderous cravings and dynamite men,
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| now I can continue to try to delude myself
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| that it is not just a pull to find profits
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| but it hurts, by now I know myself, here a
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| land my place, a rotten man can't fly
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| rite:
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| but I swear to you that once I was up there
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| too far to go back, it was there
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| a rotten man who looked like a white angel to me
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| beside me and stood beside me between the stars and the sea
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| I watched the world go by with no regrets
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| there was only new land to cultivate
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| one people, one soul and nothing else
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| and man I knew I was dreaming, a rotten man can't fly
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| verse two:
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| and every day it hurts more, believe me
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| today I ride an animal without reins, between thinking
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| to eat and then pay off the debts, but people do me
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| fly or kill me, don't hold me
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| so, between sp and black, smoked ride for
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| my city and I feel a stranger, man take me
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| away from here, we are not alive here, we are
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| bad because we are in captivity, I wake up
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| depressed and I hate myself, I look at myself
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| in the mirror and I hate the fucking reflection, because I grow up
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| without a family to love, i just need
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| to scream how much I miss someone to hug
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| I can dream of models and interviews
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| with my face on top of all the magazines, let's go
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| what are you looking for? |
| a piece of heaven? |
| also by means
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| paradise you would not have the gates open, a rotten one does not know how to fly
|
| rite:
|
| but I swear to you that once I was up there
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| too far to go back, it was there
|
| a rotten man who looked like a white angel to me
|
| beside me and stood beside me between the stars and the sea
|
| I watched the world go by with no regrets
|
| there was only new land to cultivate
|
| one people, one soul and nothing else
|
| and man I knew I was dreaming, a rotten man can't fly
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| verse three:
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| it's still
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| I feel I am the son of a people who have recently
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| and I know that he chooses the land because it is more comfortable, man
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| the human race as usual crazy and whore
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| people kill and change faces for the money, seven out of seven
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| every week you don't forget it, by now we know
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| we don't stand up for the weight of money
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| these gluttons that we are nothing else, complete with that Afghan
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| in the bodies that we fuck the memories, and you still
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| bear, crazy man to have riots
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| to be alienated and found alone, but you know who I am
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| and then fuck them, you will see the fakes already
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| ground to look at you while you take off
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| if there is a prize it has no gold inlays, just succeed in
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| to really love and then nothing else, now I'm watching
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| a higher place to go, I keep going
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| try even if everyone tells me that a rotten person can't fly
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| rite:
|
| but I swear to you that once I was up there
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| too far to go back, it was there
|
| a rotten man who looked like a white angel to me
|
| beside me and stood beside me between the stars and the sea
|
| I watched the world go by with no regrets
|
| there was only new land to cultivate
|
| one people, one soul and nothing else
|
| and man I knew I was dreaming, a rotten man can't fly |