Текст и слова песни V.I.P. – Frankness Of The Pressthroated Person...
It's my arm and it's my beauteful eye
My compassion and my running sing
On and on I hear the noise inside me
I think to keep it or not to keep
I was born with a beast, with a hole.
Soul is hole
Enemy lives by my body
He steals my happiness
I don't belong to me
Blackness... Whiteness
Black pale on the fate
Blister...
Fortune...
Shadow...
Pickles...
Wind.
Take him away from me
Enemy lives by my body
He steals my happiness
I don't belong to me
My compassion and my running sing
On and on I hear the noise inside me
I think to keep it or not to keep
I was born with a beast, with a hole.
Soul is hole
Enemy lives by my body
He steals my happiness
I don't belong to me
Blackness... Whiteness
Black pale on the fate
Blister...
Fortune...
Shadow...
Pickles...
Wind.
Take him away from me
Enemy lives by my body
He steals my happiness
I don't belong to me
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