I was sleeping in my fathers house
Trying hard to spit the poison out
Make it move faster into the south
Every single season sleeping on the couch
You cannot choose to buy your third house
Each one of you has their own mouth
Sick with the blues so put your lights out
Every time you move applause from the crowd
Even in the summer
When it's creeping in your room
I cut it from my stomach
So there's even less of you
I get everything I've wanted
In my own little tomb on a green colored island
You will see the magic soon

SOUMETTRE LES CORRECTIONS