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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 bringBack the creator of winter damn,Too late I`m spoiled, I need the napalmI got it, I shot it in my left sector,Blew up the timing device on the reactor.Time shifted I had to remold the floorThe foundation for creation - mate`s blendThe pleasure dome into another roam -A walk stalked nightly by the ogreThat`s rarely sober. But there`s no tracinI 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 currentCurrents of electricity; They can`t get wit meInvisible 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 lightSwitches so you can see the real, I feel the tensionMy sight twitches - I`m bent.Second Scene: I`m the star in a step showAround corners, the coroner`s office;Where my rep grows. I`m on some sort of drugLike 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 transportIt`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 vealDoesn`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-lockerHolds the phone, foamin at the mouth:Mad Dog, a taste, never had hog I`m droppinThe scrooge, makin fools hit the log - axe it.I seen it beneath where the cowards hopeTrembled sleeper see if you can find the lostTreasure through measures in bars - I`m bent.

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