There is no warmth anywhere, then it turns black overhead
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Then a slipper shines over her,
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But the limb is close and pushing from these paws than
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The ball spins the planet, so the children of butterflies are born
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To find the end (where?)
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Everyone hangs nearby and they scream from diseases
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Whoever sang songs is crucified
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Even the sky rots and seems to be stained with mold,
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But it is also capable of taking the whole vast world on its paws
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One little man hid everything for us and wait for your secret
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He will open to everyone only when he grows his wings
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Forced, it hurt to ...
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... But how not to roar and cry?
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The more happy the worms, the uglier the children of the butterflies,
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And in cocoons again marriage
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And my precession walks
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Life is just a phenomenon, death is just a process
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I also hide everything in a cocoon, just to grow,
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But later you will see the question in it: “Deformity or kinship?”
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And you have to accept it
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There is no warmth anywhere, then it turns black overhead
|
Then slippers are already shining above her,
|
But the limb is close and pushing from these paws than
|
The ball spins the planet, so the children of butterflies are born
|
(Butterfly babies are born)
|
There is no warmth anywhere, then it turns black overhead
|
Then slippers are already shining above her,
|
But the limb is close and pushing from these paws than
|
The ball spins the planet, so the children of butterflies are born
|
(Butterfly babies are born)
|
Walking my precession, life is just a phenomenon
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Death is just a process, and I'll throw everything on odd or even
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Random one mutation, tears to pour or burn?
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This is how my nutation walks, little grasshopper man
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Looking for a sword, but there is nothing to hold a blow
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And do not let yourself lie on your shoulders, the whole vast world
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And almost like a carnation in the palm, he drove a toothpick into the wing,
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But how to extract it now?
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Just so as not to tear to hell,
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But this time in whose mouth the butterfly is sinking, kicking in thick saliva
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She is clearly doomed, but I guarantee that she is not at all.
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It turns out that everything is forgiven us in the void
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This is how the globe of the earth rotates and my precession walks
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Life is just a phenomenon, death is just a process
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And I'm a beetle that won slippers
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Since there is no heat anywhere, the colder it is in the cocoon
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The more beautiful the children of butterflies, so put out the fire
|
There is no warmth anywhere, then it turns black overhead
|
Then slippers are already shining above her,
|
But the limb is close and pushing from these paws than
|
The ball spins the planet, so the children of butterflies are born
|
(Butterfly babies are born)
|
There is no warmth anywhere, then it turns black overhead
|
Then slippers are already shining above her,
|
But the limb is close and pushing from these paws than
|
The ball spins the planet, so the children of butterflies are born
|
(Butterfly babies are born)
|
There is no warmth anywhere, then it turns black overhead
|
Then slippers are already shining above her,
|
But the limb is close and pushing from these paws than
|
The planet spins the ball, so the children of butterflies are born, the children of butterflies are born
|
There is no warmth anywhere, then it turns black overhead
|
Then slippers are already shining above her,
|
But the limb is close and pushing from these paws than
|
The planet spins the ball, so the children of butterflies are born, the children of butterflies are born |