Infected Eternal Questiuns Of Existence
Run away from hell Please, excuse my smell Listen, now I'm dead f..ck my if I sad Why You have to give You've to forgive You have to live I can fly around Pleaced of the ground I can see my friends Frig their balls with hands It's my funeral Ican see it all Look - it's me in this coffin, I'm deaad All this bastards pretend as thay sad f..ck my aunt, It's so terrible sound Oh, It's me, I'm at least under ground You know what I mean It feel like in dream You free and don't care What stuff you've to wear Come on join me my friend You'll find promised land This bastards will suck We'll newer could give a f..ck...
