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Richard Marx F/ Chely Wright - Текст песни 120 Seconds
yo Double-A
 I blaze this energizer let's see you pull this one...
 Aceyalone:
 happy birthday to me
 happy earth day to we
 I just turned a hundred and seventy five million
 two hundred and seventy three
 and I'm at my peak
 our pick of the week
 straight tweaked with a godly type mystique
 ???? Spock, nanou nanou ???
 abort, distortion report on which sort
 a quick court, support, cut short
 time warp, interplanetary movement
 I'll say, foul play, hey
 which way does Willy Wonka stay?
 we came to see the chocolate sway
 happy birthday to me, to me
 hip hip hooray to me, to me
 synthetic or prototype
 genetical photocopy
 Xerox and medical mocks to breakthrough
 shocks and shakes you
 as Acey takes you
 through lyrical masochism
 and as I blast the last to give 'em
 dissect, insect, inflict, whoa
 destination one-two-oh
 ohhhh
'One hundred and twenty seconds until you die'
 When I die, bury me under the gravelRichard Marx F/ Chely Wright - 120 Seconds - http://ru.motolyrics.com/richard-marx-f-chely-wright/120-seconds-lyrics.html
 travel fifty feet down, step out and pack me in
 I acknowledged(?_ I won't be back again
 now I'm a entity, ex-humanity within
 earthly vanities, sunshine and the wind
 I suppose, ambrose'll rose your soul
 to give you immortality and infinity skin
 but you're immortal close, you froze
 (ah.. he froze)
 now your takin' in a free fall in the end
 every draft, breeze, trickle of water, a sound wave
 in your perimeter is similar
 and behaves as a test to manifest life forms
 it forms a warm blunted
 heavily budded individual
 in the visual eye
 cut it, gut it, fry
 I am invisible so is it impossible to cry?
 nope, soak my pillow case
 I wrote a little taste
 I'm hopin' the middle breaks the lies
 my objective remains at one with the stainless steel object
 still feels the pain
 flagrant, nefarious
 fragrence of various ages
 and chemical compounds compounded
 a bouquet, a readily picked array
 of dandelions, roses, pointset-i-as
 gold marigolds in a vase that's passed to monks
 and kindred, intended, descended
 and suspended in mid-air
 match amended and I ended on a bad note
 put salt in the open wound and I broke










