I'm out! |
I'm in the underground, bye!
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Through the corridors of the basement in rubber boots
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This is not hell's gate, this is our sound, bro
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Wires are hidden in the head with cockroaches
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Dances to the drum in the hands of the organ
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While from above the paw reaches into our pocket
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Hope in the yards is again eaten by the fog
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We settle with sound on our ears, like uranium dust
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Rap didn't break me off, but it broke off my mother
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Wrestlers under the propeller were forced to the floor
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I wound a cap on a bit, wrote in squares
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While the area was moving on muskrat caps
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The drug-ridden generation
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But our submarine swims in the fairway
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We know where it's a little small - there are seams along the side
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After death we live on flash drives and microplates
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Digging underground with an excavator bucket
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They have offshore accounts, and you live on a salary
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With me the lights of the Arbat and the stoned country
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You should be hanging from poles with MP's crust
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Emptiness will fill any volume
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Remember, you are alone, even if you are alone
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Someone will drop a percentage, someone will be given a conditional
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If you didn’t really live, then it’s not dumb to die
|
Emptiness will fill any volume
|
Remember, you are alone, even if you are alone
|
Someone will drop a percentage, someone will be given a conditional
|
If you didn’t really live, then it’s not dumb to die
|
Emptiness will fill any volume
|
Remember, you are alone, even if you are alone
|
Someone will drop a percentage, someone will be given a conditional
|
If you didn’t really live, then it’s not dumb to die |