Chorus:
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I'm sick, baby.
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There is so much rubbish in me that my heart does not beat.
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I don't see pain, I don't touch dirt.
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I'll take a photo of how the sky burned, but:
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The heart will never melt. |
Bitch wants a photo, I know!
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The bitch wants to get into my flock, the bitch wants to warm
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His dirty hands over the fire of the ruins that have arisen.
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Bitch, we created it all.
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In these ruins, my new home smells of people and fires.
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And where I come from, no one has heard of happiness.
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And if anyone gave fruit, then they grew into this place.
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Yes, I started from the bottom, but I broke this vicious circle.
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A shot in the air is the start, and I became myself on the run.
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Darwin is right, and the strongest will crush all the husks,
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But they wiped their feet on us - we opened a war!
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Give me a point of support and I'll smash them all myself,
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But people surrendered their lives into the arms of karakurt.
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Their veins are covered with NASA images - their space is here.
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A war with yourself, which you do not wish on the enemy.
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The heart will never melt.
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Bitch wants a photo, I know
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Bitch wants to spit in my soul
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Bitch wants to shoot in the heart
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But I'm wearing a cocoon of steel!
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Bitch, we all climbed outside
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From the doomed anthill in the center of the sand tower.
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God, I ran with all my strength so that it would not be scary,
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To your dream, without reading other people's papers.
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We ourselves will build our city in the light of burning fires.
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I'm drowning in the abyss of millions of forgotten seas,
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I glow in the sky of billions of forgotten planets,
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I'm burning on a skewer of judgments in my head!
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Friend, I don't give a fuck about all labels.
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You can call me the same as everyone else
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But the heart will never melt
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Until her flame gets in the way.
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Chorus:
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I'm sick, baby!
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There is so much rubbish in me that my heart does not beat.
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I don't see pain, I don't touch dirt.
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I'll take a photo of how the sky burned.
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How the sky burned
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How the wind carries the smell of those victories.
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And I'll take a photo of how the sky burned.
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How the sky burned.
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My house. |
I will not return to it
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I'm not expected there.
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It's better to just burn out.
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The road home is my wrong route. |