Meanwhile Rome burns Meanwhile Rome burns It's a cultural shift, it's the North Atlantic drift Americana and a rule Britannia And the moon, yes, we own
Oh why do you try and pull me under? Trust me I am already dead I've been digging my own grave for far too long now, And I don't mind waking up without
Перевод: Фатима особняки. Ветер Северо-Атлантического.
Перевод: Североатлантический. Города.
Перевод: Североатлантический. Подметальщиков.
Перевод: Североатлантический. Министерство Вертолеты.
Once upon a time in the North Atlantic Sea sailed a band of stinky pirates looking for booty they searched every coast they sailed the world around but
I was not woken by the rooster Nor by the crow's tough song But the midnight cry of a blood red bird Brought this sleeplessness on Where cries from
So you left me in this city all alone with a mouth full of wires and a room of iron ghosts and a pill trail to the end of the night where you will never
I am drunk under the electrics stumbling, scrambling, screaming, at the top of my lungs if I never said another fucking word would I just disappear?
Swallow fire chew the wine you can't control your body take your pill sell your will Vicadin is so in style I'll tell you one thing sugar we're not standing
Congratulations girl you've turned me into a fucking robot now disco lights in my analog eyes wires hanging from my cocktail party mouth Welcome to the
When I was your age I'd get the fuck down, sex the girls all soft and round. And plains spitting fire from their mouth at cities a mile in the ground
Turn off the lights and watch it all melt down Napoleon slow to the bottom of this town taste your mouth and touch your knees blinking lights in electric
And the lotus-eater came to you and said drink from my cup little girl he put his wires all inside of you and took you apart so slow and that was the
: Pulses traced a vigil The night you were pushed asleep Pupils watched indifferent Taking notes on virgin sheets It's amazing what they can do to you
: When you knock on the door With the poise of a saint When your scarf falls away with a flick and a sway There are suddenly reasons to wait In a flying
