You're busting pills inside my head
That make it seem like I am dead, again
I must be flying through the sky
I heard it's where you go when you die
La-la-la
La-la-la
I must prepare to take another drink
It's hard to stand, it's hard to speak
I must be lost within lights, blinking holes
I must be scratching quietly upon the walls, again
La-la-la
La-la-la
La-la-la
La-la-la
Comparte Gloves for Garbage! con tus amigos.
Que tal te parece Gloves for Garbage de Damaged Bug?
