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letra de twenty one days in nankin - dy-66

from the moment i grew up
how could i mete, cut the most part of optimism
god, my mental is in doubt now
oh, nah
i ain’t gonna beg for my daily bread
bad alien’s inside
i’ll bet he makes me to whine
it’s strange, his name is mine and he looks like i do
he’s here, i feel
i’ve appointed this rendezvous to flip him
i’m hero of tales, i’m hiding here in underwood
though line was being crossed out every time i managed to paint it, pain wasn’t trouble, i should have to outline his body with chalk and i made it!
but hippocampus behaves disobediently
despite the needed facility range of emotions is still limited by criticality, dread i was living in
the gun is buried in the campus’s garden, should i dig out it?
change is not visible, the leather belt squeezes neck, torso, cables’ wrecked, tossed
will’s able to annihilate walls?
my will was humiliated, when i turned eighteen, none of its words had remained in me
and i was reeling over eastside, the least side of me wanna lead us to the only precise huge size in roof, thrust bursting belly
this beast’s still inside, about to dally
i’m ready to tool my body with the heated pavement
and this horrific sculpture will be subject of dispute at auction between top-rated museums of delhi
how can i be on target, get rid of this dark, heat?
he had developed against my will to seek bright spots among pitch darkness
but eyes used to watch the glass over cause i own the bad proper to put up with sh-t not to get over it!
who is that you calling to?
let be calm and cool!
you grab the feet here, right to the collector
don’t give me a stare with a call down
the creature, we’ll dump now, used to poison my life each dawn
“hey, wassup?
why am i floating?
the hands are tied, the water is roaring
am i supposed to find my yellow submarine to fall into niagara?
now i know it, i’ve got it”

the tram is broken down again with no root
my control’s already out, tired of going on foot
take a look, six trams in line
it’s your bad luck to hear my whine
lucky you, you ain’t the citizen of country where even trams get through a queue
please, zoroaster, give me power just to pass it
i’ll plant a flower, a blue aster
like, every hour after dull whine phrase
i see you aren’t enrapt, trying to rap me with a dolorous story, assure not to rap, give up the paper, redress the prospect, i know it!
the pencil is fallen, you dealt with my right
my left is typing, “moron, lay off me”
i’m poisonous snake in garden
i poison your spirit, you feel it, you’ve been gutted
now you know if something wrong, to what beast you should regard to every problem you encounter
maybe, my skin will be shed off, someday i’ll find my fangs blunted, fed of blood and warm-blooded
but these days in shadow i’m bl–dy hungry!
who is that you calling to?
let be calm and cool!
you grab the feet here, right to the collector
don’t give me a stare with a call down
the creature, we’ll dump now, used to poison my life each dawn
“hey, wassup?
why am i floating?
the hands are tied, the water is roaring
am i supposed to find my yellow submarine to fall into niagara?
now i know it, i’ve got it”

- dy 66

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