V.i.p.s.

Frankness of the pressthroated person, who stays on the stairs at 5 p.m.

V.i.p.s.
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

Encontrou algum erro na letra? Por favor envie uma correção clicando aqui!