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  • Текст песни clipping., Sickness - Body for the Pile

    Исполнитель: clipping., Sickness
    Название песни: Body for the Pile
    Дата добавления: 21.09.2023 | 01:20:10
    Просмотров: 2
    0 чел. считают текст песни верным
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    Здесь расположен текст песни clipping., Sickness - Body for the Pile, перевод и видео.
    And it's stains in the wainscotting
    Cracks in the baseboard
    Arachnid in the corner serving up face
    Like whose house you think this is?
    Prism vision in low light
    Scan prison tats on the back of a low life lifeless
    And a broke nose might just be done drippin'
    Wet all night
    It dries deep red on the off white carpet
    And a soft light arcs just above arm height
    All white Vans placed on the floor
    Pack of Pall Mall lights
    Bite marks on a half sandwich with no crust
    Mustard and mayonnaise
    Lettuce and red cold cuts
    Moonlight streams through window dust
    It floats up to the ceiling fan that creaks from rust
    As it labors to go around
    Trying to catch that feeling
    And the paint on his base is peeling
    And the taste in the air is faint but there
    Just enough that the rats are nearing
    Cause where there's blood there's feast and famine
    Makes murder a meal
    And the cheap wall clock will stop at one shot
    So he knew it was time to kill
    Bust one shot if your blood still pumping
    Bust two shots if you're really 'bout something
    Three little pigs and they can't do nothing for the last time
    You can't run, you just a body for the pile, body for the pile
    Body for the pile, body for the pile
    You just a body for the pile, body for the pile
    And you should probably take your last breath right about now
    Office highly decorated
    Plastic frames around diplomas, all the commendations
    Accommodating swivel chair where the blue suited sir sits slumped
    Brains splattered, wall stained, grey matter runs
    Badge with his name makes blood on the tongue
    'Cause it's pinned to his right cheek
    Right where the gun must have first flirted
    Before it was stuck in his mouth
    Officer, with his brains blown out
    Water pitcher with the ice
    Two glasses one either side
    Of the desk the lipstick left on one appears to smile wide
    And the slatted blinds are squinting just enough
    For the sunrise to zebra stripe the room with light
    He would have had to shield his eyes
    But they wide open, no motion
    No, he never flinched
    Palms flat on the table, didn't seem to move an inch
    Fish bowl on the far side of the room
    Where goldfish swims around
    Suspicious of the gun that now sits in the bowl with him
    Bust one shot if your blood still pumping
    Bust two shots if you're really 'bout something
    Three little pigs and they can't do nothing for the last time
    You can't run, you just a body for the pile, body for the pile
    Body for the pile, body for the pile
    You just a body for the pile, body for the pile
    And you should probably take your last breath right about now
    Red and blue light spinning
    On the corner by the new fried chicken spot
    Cop car hopped the curb then absurdly hit the hydrant
    Which wouldn't stop
    Spraying water that's dripping over the face
    That's made its way through the windshield
    And cuttin' bleedin' the people leaving the scene and saying they never seen him
    Coming but he must have run the light, he never rolled
    Hand is reaching for the gun but couldn't get a hold
    So, it's sitting limp up on the dash
    And all the flashing of the cameras is lighting up the noontime cold
    Overcast broken glass
    On the concrete the scent of gasoline
    Hovers over the motor smoke
    And the single broken bicycle spoke wheel still protruding
    The medics moving the little twisted body to bag it up
    Detective notices the traffic camera then calls the station to back it up
    And somewhere the screams turn into sobs
    And the sirens mix with the howls of dogs
    And from the water the rolling fog
    Scented wet, it's the breath of God
    They say in the greyscale city
    Where the skies are scraped
    And the days are pretty much shaded
    You never know the faithful, they walk and they pray
    And there's one less lung sucking air today so
    Bust one shot if your blood still pumping
    Bust two shots if you're really 'bout something
    Three little pigs and they can't do nothing for the last time
    You can't run, you just a body for the pile, body for the pile
    Body for the pile, body for the pile
    You just a body for the pile, body for the pile
    And you should probably take your last breath right about now
    Тело для кучи, тело для кучи
    Ты просто тело для кучи, тело для кучи
    И вы, вероятно, должны сделать последний вздох

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