Untie me
The mist
My days have no sun
This picture tortures me
My nights have no relief
My blood has no taste
This picture tortures me
My nights have no relief
My blood has no taste
I corrupted my veins on insecticide
Anchored my sights, my mind, my breath
Pump!
Pump!
Sweat, fear embraces me
Be afraid, my friend! The TV says
My damnation
Am I in the heaven or in the devil’s room?
I’m leaving the hell of angels now
The walls of confidence
Falling down with my faith
A machine made me a loser
My fingers make me a loser
There is no table ready for my lunch
There is no roof
I simply can’t see what’s going on
Reality slaps my face every time I try
Stand up
I have no more will to keep my eyes opened
Without my insecticide
Run
Run
Run, brother!
I see the light calling me
For me, no hope and no peace
I cut my fingers off to get pure
And pray for not waking up tomorrow
Another day without sun
Pump my reality!
Pump my reality!
Pump!
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