Now Hear a poem.
I want to do whatever you want,
your circuit has closed theην.
Fin Μow aims to tear the comunicatins scatter.
I never thought I could get off the track.
It never crossed my mind to turn my back.
Life seemed ridiculous,
but I thought I'd find a place.
I thought there would be enlightenment at the end of the chase.
But now all my dreams are dead and gone.
My brain hurts and my heart is on the run.
Life
is like a megastorm.
A labyrinth in which the restless breathe.
The air-conditioned smell leads me towards the door.
But the security guards won't let me leave.
And at six,
there is this oppressive smell.
And I sense the time has come to sound the bell for the last round.
The signs have started to
come down.
Let me buy the
last round.
My mind
is going out of space.
My angry heart
sets the pace.
I won't sell my soul to the megastorm.
I'd rather go up in flames than the ashes scattered on the floor.
Still long for the same midnight.
There's no story left to tell.
The clock ticks fast,
but we still ignore the bell
for the
last round.
The signs have started to come down to hell with all real sounds.
So please start this countdown and let
me buy.
Let
me buy.
Let me buy the
last round.