My house and my life is a couple of walls
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Skinned, worn out simply,
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But no, I saw how they stuck out, I saw death in the face
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Yes, maybe it's alien to you, but I grew up here
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This cold is painfully familiar
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I smoke at night and let my feelings go
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Who could understand when everything is empty inside
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Point at four, yes, it doesn't matter to me, fuck him, but
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No Pasaran, give more confidence to the boys
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Forgotten hungry I will stay there
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This is my beggar's paradise
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Come on, dear, thousands are not important at all
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Settle your ardor, what a choice
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Long closed passage
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In the same boldly I walk for the fifth year, on my
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7 years old this is my house (my house), this is my house
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All these tracks are a collection of stories about me
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My sadness, longing and I will stay with her
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Being poor, I look up to the sky with joy
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I will remember where I grew up wherever I am
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You don't fucking need to know how to live
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You are packed to the top, but I would like a better life
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Always, a couple of cops just out
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The wind does not whistle in your pocket, everything is still quiet there
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Now such times are coming
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Like it or not, you have to, stalemate
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To be honest, son, maybe it's my fault
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Everything is so ordinary in this piece of wood
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Don't you dare say "Star" to me, you didn't even see it yourself
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Everything stays the same, nothing fucking changed
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I'm also at zero, I'm also fucking ambitious
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I lie down and think: "Where can I find a couple of lyams?"
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"Foundation, work and life": my mother said
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The foundation is work and being - purely for the slaves of the system
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I'd rather be with myself so as not to waste my nerves
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On the second floor I catch moments
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I remember hundreds of times, but each time is like the first
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Oh, crazy life, where are you leading
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Thank you for being alone, because I'm good at it
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All these tracks are a collection of stories about me
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My sadness, longing and I will stay with her
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Being poor, I look up to the sky with joy
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I will remember where I grew up wherever I am
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You don't fucking need to know how to live
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You are packed to the top, but I would like a better life
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Always, a couple of cops just out
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The wind does not whistle in your pocket, everything is still quiet there
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Therefore, it will be necessary to try to survive in these conditions. |
Because than
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the more we earn, the easier it will be for us to live |