Текст песни Saafir The Saucee Nomad - Bent
Saafir The Saucee Nomad - Bent слова песни
I`ve been down this corridor
Before you enter you have to bring
Back the creator of winter damn
Too late I`m spoiled I need the napalm
I got it I shot it in my left sector
Blew up the timing device on the reactor.
Time shifted I had to remold the floor
The foundation for creation mate`s blend
The pleasure dome into another roam
A walk stalked nightly by the ogre
That`s rarely sober. But there`s no tracin
I see the place in the flow. I`m beyond dawn,
No I`m not in the lawn under pawns -
Don`t rest, never possessed stagnate magnets.
I never pulled slits lips wit no braille skilled eyes -
Balls through eyesockets. I`m currently current
Currents of electricity; They can`t get wit me
Invisible to the retina half - way reality part limbo.
A nervous laugh while ya climbin through windows,
Never spin ho`s on merry-go-rounds,
Be the ground level for ghouls, schools of fish,
Victims on a hit list me like Geronimo on a pratt -
Tackle patt tacklin patterns addin in seasonings, flavor.
No false teeth for beef, catapulting fingers to light
Switches so you can see the real, I feel the tension
My sight twitches - I`m bent.
Second Scene: I`m the star in a step show
Around corners, the coroner`s office;
Where my rep grows. I`m on some sort of drug
Like the President, it`s evident that I`m noid,
A little bit of pizza - the riddle gets deeper.
I`m lookin for outs n ins, stolen isotonas,
The gloves, the bout begins three jabs on a transport
It`s a sport for me to take another life on landing,
Branding wit a prattle prod designed by God.
It`s my job to resign frauds,
The odd is against you got a degree in me,
So I know that I flow, credentials are essential -
It`s blasphemy the type of shit they be askin me.
I don`t feel the vibe, abstract art the veal
Doesn`t heal this deprived stomach from a plummet.
Swinging on a duet with the bullet.
I never pull out for suspense - I`m on a bent mission.
Jack Cousteau couldn`t take it no deeper -
I`m a resident in Davey Jones micro-locker
Holds the phone, foamin at the mouth:
Mad Dog, a taste, never had hog I`m droppin
The scrooge, makin fools hit the log - axe it.
I seen it beneath where the cowards hope
Trembled sleeper see if you can find the lost
Treasure through measures in bars - I`m bent.