crociato ha scritto:

E' arrivato il lord inglese.
Sei l'ultima persona che mi può venire a parlare di finezza dopo il lerciume che ascolti o segui.
Perchè non ti scandalizzi delle tue amate copertine sanguinolente e dei continui riferimenti al macabro?
.

A questo punto mi congedo,gli altri utenti non ti hanno risposto più perchè continuavi a mascherare l'evidenza..

La stessa cosa hai fatto quando si parlava del falso atterraggio sulla luna..

Alle tue domande ti ho risposto molto nei post precedenti.
Continua da solo.

Every day blows by in a world of corrupt addiction
With life comes pain withdrawals and deformation
Breaking the mould of human appearance
Contorting bodies with chemical interference

The guilty one, innocent she now cries
A life of hell, better off to die
Born without eyes, hands, and half a brain
Being born addicted to cocaine

Living monstrosity
A freak for life they'll always be
Never knowing love or hate
Only pain the drug creates

Some say she's naive, she's a stupid bitch
Some say to forgive, guilty she should die

The beginning of the end begins at birth
Breeding masses of twisted screaming flesh
An example we should make out of theses creators of misfortune
A serious crime that should not be forgiven

The guilty one, innocent she now cries
A life of hell, better off to die
Born without eyes, hands, and half a brain
Being born addicted to cocaine

Ashes and promises share a bond
Through the winds of change
Words are blown away
When visions that should be
Are tattooed in your mind
The power to let go
Is sometimes hard to find

The answer cannot be found
In the writing of others
Or the words of a trained mind
In a precious world of memories
We find ourselves confined

Claws so razor sharp
Ripping at the spirit

Promises a potential to hurt
Is anything real?
When forever is to be until
Deep inside, in the world of empty words...
No escaping from those haunting
Empty words...

Do you ever feel it?
A craving that is so strong
To by thought rewind in order to find

Expectations that shined through the doubt
That soon would turn into the price
Of what a word will be worth
When tomorrow comes
To be and we are left
Standing on our own-
And seeing what is real...

The answer cannot be found
In the writing of others
Or the words of a trained mind
In a precious world of memories
We find ourselves confined

Claws so razor sharp
Ripping at the spirit

Secondo me tu non capisci l'italiano.
Quale parte non hai capito di "quella musica mi fa vomitare"?