Four Phonica - Symptoms | Текст песни

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• Four Phonica
• Symptoms

I am your tangled hair
I am the summer rut
I am the fascist terror
I'm zombies passive fear
I am this world's entropy
I am the last cries of your fucking fur coat
I am the blood on your dinners snow-white table cloth
I am the gist, you can't forget
I'm the guilt, you can't escape
I am the harmony, that you want to destroy
I am nature, that will never fit your fucking whims
I am your farcical circus religion, full of paradox
I'm pure evil, which it is
Covering with stale images, fear and guilt
Repressing censor, so you're eager to eat
I'm the fat stuck in your brain
I am the fat stuck in your brain
I am the fat stuck in your brain
I am the fat stuck in your brain
I am your fantasies' chinese plastic stink
I am the temple of inanimate images
Compare yourself
I am the temple of inanimate images
Compare yourself to feel like a loser
I am your kali values, you want to substitute
I am your fake moral, that every human is a prostitute
Kill, kill
Confess, confess
Eat, eat
Confess, confess
Kill, kill
Confess, confess
Eat, eat
Confess, confess
I am the bruises from the shackles
of this so-called order
I am the death beneath your feat
I am the blood on your hands
I am the day, when you will pay
For all that you've don

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