| «I think they don’t want 'cha
|
| Seeing to mucha, digging grave»
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| Rave- save me form being pale
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| Lay me down on your knees, squeeze
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| Coz I can’t get what I need, this is
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| Reality
|
| Driven by stupidity, raising my family
|
| My throat feels hoarse (scene)
|
| Shouting at the doors, cleaning womit from
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| My floors the alien (without a cause) knows laws
|
| (slow down, slow down…)
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| You know that I come a place full of disgrace
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| Danger creeps in every corner, boredom is
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| Not your border
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| The cold burn in your cheek, no place to weep
|
| Your home is like uriah heep, fright’s your
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| Only weapon
|
| You’re like searching for the treasure at
|
| The rainbow’s end
|
| Pain is your friend
|
| Physically mentally, you run with the
|
| Wolves with only stoneage tools
|
| Away from luxury, you need peace
|
| Yo, you live surrounded by colorful trees
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| But without leaves, man
|
| Full autumn breeze
|
| Wolves on the streets
|
| I’m always ragged, you don’t want me now
|
| Full autumn breeze
|
| Colorful trees
|
| I’m always ragged, please don’t want me now
|
| Yo man, you know I have a jacket made from
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| My blanket
|
| Crawling against the north wind, against the chill
|
| It is time for a pill or a pint of beer
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| Makes my frozen hand to rouch you closer
|
| To your breakfast filled with mother’s milk-
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| Silk of your sweetnes
|
| Coz I’m shy it makes me cry on my wooden
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| Table, with a pint
|
| In my hand I recognize: my turntable is
|
| Frozen, but my god: I should be chosen
|
| Full autumn breeze
|
| Wolves on the streets
|
| I’m always ragged, you don’t want me now
|
| Full autumn breeze
|
| Far from your squeeze
|
| I’m always ragged, please don’t want me now
|
| I’m the part of the big bad show
|
| I’m the hardened one in the leading role
|
| Truding in a muddy sludge
|
| The ancient child of an ancient rave
|
| «I think they don’t want 'cha, living like
|
| Too mucha, you’re cold!»
|
| Cold?, But cold is bold, bold makes cold
|
| Tell me what was wrong
|
| They do not care, they do not know that
|
| Here is the truth about the death of Kurt:
|
| He needed danger, the coldeness gave the
|
| Arranger, the arrangement was power
|
| The power was the wind on his cheek
|
| Why try to rip off the power of päkä päkä
|
| Muffins are always lowest (päkä päkä)
|
| I wanna rap in this trap of nature, see my
|
| Trees in a colorful breeze
|
| I never ever wanted too mucha (except your
|
| Toucha)
|
| Crawling against the cold gives you a strong bass
|
| A branch where those sharp teeth of wolves
|
| Won’t hurt
|
| That was the death of Kurt
|
| He craved it but never got it
|
| Everyday life was too hot and burned it
|
| (I wonder what’s gonna be inna head, again
|
| Me will see, what will be)
|
| Full autumn breeze
|
| Wind tears the leaves
|
| I’m always ragged, please don’t want me now
|
| Wolves on the street
|
| An ancient breeze
|
| I’m forever ragged, no shelter, please
|
| I’m the part of a big bad show
|
| I’m the hardened one in the leading role
|
| I’m truding in a muddy sludge
|
| I’m forever ragged, don’t want me now |