El Raccoon - Torture the Torturers | Текст песни

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• El Raccoon
• Torture the Torturers

All's subject to impulses, I won't take it, I can't take it.
The rational being projected by 'intellectuals' is more than a lie – it's goalless, fruitless activity.
The phenomenal lacks objectivity.
If I'm not sure of any sense, I'll find the beat of affection.
Show jumping high horse, the course of the city, in a bar having breakfast with serendipity.
“Every second I'm awake I think of-” your sigh interrupted my flow 'till you replied;
“Um, Fine?”- attracted by your reason I, like an animal in season throw fire on everything that's going to burn
and I'm fire, a track, dead by a reason.
I pride myself on getting even in time, as odd as three on you.
As odd as my inflections, I can't shake it, breathe in, break it.
My bush is unpreened, my garden's really messy. It's a shame.
The school of thought's just;
Become the court juror, embrace the blood lust, torture the torturers.
I found 'the life' affected by. I'll find the beating affliction.
Smiling, I'm spinning with posies round my head, splitting your face with a knife, spitting acid.
You're not so pretty now cunt.
Still, I'm obliged to cut the arm of which to you I'm tied.
I'm fine, attracted by your reason. I, like an animal in season throw fire on everything that's going to burn
and I'm fire, a track, dead by a reason.
I pride myself on getting even in time, as odd as three on you.
I'm not going to waste a second pining for you.
Any longer and the dust will cover me.
Pray that, as odd as it sounds, the sun will always shine so high above the clouds, its light will bring the day.
I'll lament what I once had, comb my hair, blank look, photocopy when ah, tomorrow's away.

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