The Method
Comett
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Listen to me, you’ve got to change your method
Your story, must sound sadly beautiful
Your movie, will win many golden globe
Your lyrics? I don’t understand a word
I'm twenty, I know what is “à la mode”
You’re forty, you’re not fashion anymore
The rock is killed by the neighborhood
Your music, will break through the black mirror
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Oh, you’ve got to change your mind
You wanna reach the stars
You gotta leave, you gotta go