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    Cut me into pieces and bury into the ground
    Till’ I hear no voices, or a fucking sound
    Music’s fucking dead
    And leeches everywhere

    Fucking faggots singing trash
    I hope that this won’t last
    Honestly, I like it
    What problem brings me your silliness?

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    You can’t see this is gasoline burning my knuckles
    Feeding my mind
    I try to ride my own world
    Where we get no concern

    Cuz’ in these fucking times I feel
    There’s nothing to do
    Runaway, runaway

    Información de la canción

    Composición: Gabriel Brito

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