Don’t listen to what they say
If you don’t wanna play their dirty games today
Just breathe with full lungs
Like you’ve always done – you are a son of a gun
They all try to hurt
But they will find themselves burnt in a puddle of dirt
And sing your songs
In the way that they know and always say that it’s wrong
Find your way through darkness everywhere!
Through people on the stairs
Through humans, who don’t care
Find your way
Make them freeze
When you get on the stage like a summer breeze
They don’t know
They won’t admit they were wrong they say, it’s all kind’ a show
Lucky days
Will face again your face, you will compete those gays
All your rhymes
Are funny too sometimes, but always fresh like limes