Traduction: Dead Fish. Lost Soul.
cold HIV, lost hope Overweight, self esteem Misfit, broken dream Fish tank, small bowl Closed mind, dark hold Cybergirl, droid control Get away now they trying to steal your soul
[plates 7-10] In seed time learn, in harvest teach, in winter enjoy, drive your cart and your plow over the bones of the dead, the road of excess leads
step sound it's a battered soul crown and now it's your cut feet on the ground you try to look up but still fall down and i sail on with the fish is
HIV, lost hope Overweight, self esteem Misfit, broken dream Fish tank, small bowl Closed mind, dark hold Cybergirl, droid control Get away now they trying To steal your soul
dead right Get ready to be turned you into food for fishes And leave behind upset crying senior citizens Crying on the shit again Shotgun Charlemagne The boss still open souled
that I call 'em, back from the essence Who the fuck want more lessons? It's over Know what I'm sayin'? it's over The dead bury the dead, it's over Your
-queue that's beckoning me Yes, living hand-to-mouth, it can be fun for a while Simple things, please simple minds, do you see me smile? Broke my bread and fishes
are judged, and twist in this storm like birds over sails. III I have caught the dead again: I click my eyes And there they are, mercurial ghosts, formed And moving; so the dead
And the first one tore a picture Of a dead and hanging man Who was kissing foreign fishes That flew right out from this hands And when I put my arms around
soul 'cause mine is worn down But from the pregance of my hardship was born style Still my pen bleeds and stains the paper with thought Finding me lost
Violent J:] A black sand storm is approaching the metropolis Sucking up sunlight it moves ontop of us Beaches of black sand are littered with dead fish
to be dope? (yeah...) I owned a pocketful of fame... (but look what you're doin' now!) I know, well I know I lost touch with reality, now my personality
over I'll never be a part of your beautiful dream At least I'm not lost in a sea of designer disease Glad you're pleased to be, I ain't dead yet you
Dre and Suge or Beans and Hov This is one bullet, one head, and one lost soul. Wipe my fingerprints off, and the gun is tossed in with the fishes Like
lost soul, Ground control to lost soul. If you copy... come in lost soul. Come in lost soul. We lost contact."(- Josh Brown) Abort Mission. We lost contact
safe to fly, Greylag insists that Cat join them with a parachute. Cat, Greylag and the flock take off in search of Ugly's mom leaving the poor lost soul
