The Babys — тексты песен
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the air comes off the ocean
the city smells fishy
the air is full of fish and mystery
whispering who, what, when
I am warning you I am weightless
and the wind is always shifting
so don`t hang anything on me
- Alien
I exist in a state of consistant transition
plans shifting, with insuffitient ambition
man listen, this is my advice
die or fight, get caged in or take flight
on the page inside the margin i make light
appear in the...
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