I don't know what's going on, these times are strange, I see more and more carnage to follow in ruins,
in civilized, blind, imbued, in materialism, they leave the pineal gland to the dark abyss,
spiritually enslaved by drugs and fashion, when they are trapped in chains of wheels
and hypnotized by the enchanting of serpents, in disturbing, transformed into clientless dissents
like messiahs that accelerate our rhythms, and die in strata, with heart attacks,
without the effects of this life in the flower of age, left behind by rancid and longing,
and it's reality, it's not the network of a movie, of the flood, of those who live and die,
we walk in the arms of this world, do what you can, in the topsy-turvy of the masses,
you are the number one, I forget your name, I obey, if you always end up with a sound,
I eat, I drink, I fuck, I sleep, I work for this uniform, I connect to your vision, I have your phone,
no questions, I know if it will be where, it's not up to you, my tone is sarcasm,
wake up, get out of this marasmus!
Depression is a new urban impediment, the pressure is so much, I don't even want to leave the bed,
they are buried families, in antipressives, on the land of the living dead, in vegetative states,
the oldest ones, well, you forgot everything, with Alzheimer's in search of the lost seeds,
excluded from this pragmatism system, they stop being wheels of the mechanism,
the media instigate a 9 in gativism, they give the genes, point to a greater pessimism,
and the coup d'état, and suddenly Godet and Santos lived in the country of the wonders of Lice,
far from the adulterers and their Abajulis, fiction is much more real than this story, honestly,
it's better for someone to take control, and if not you, who, if not now, when?
You are the number one, I forget if I don't obey, I always end up with a sound,
I eat, I fuck, I sleep, I work for this uniform, I connect to your vision, I have your phone,
no questions, I know if it will be where, it's not up to you, my tone is sarcasm,
여� Cheng, take that off your head, my anger,
batteries in the massage table, in this strange world we enunciate,
the operations of the car, we are divided, and these blood are really expensive,
we solve every problem, we go to the bank,
the ignorance transforms us in bosses with vanilla balls,
We call the bullets, we finish our bullets
In the end, there is always a mother who solves
See so many hedonists with postures and maturas
They want to enjoy immediately
As a uniform, maniacs, hairstyles
That drink, dreams, frauds, and houses
They end up on the sides, because of hard drugs
Like hypochondriac, in search of false colors
Will they be the synestries of time to cross in bills?
Send us the money, I don't give a damn
The bad ones to exchange
You give the maximum and show yourself when you fail
I'm the number one
I forget that I'm the number one or worse
I know that I have respect for sound
Like a bad father
I sleep, I work, I see the uniform
I turn on the TV, I turn on the phone
No questions, I know if they will be
It's not the tone, my tone of sarcasm
It's the tone of sarcasm
It's the tone of sarcasm
It's the tone of sarcasm
