PM - BP | Текст песни

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• PM
• BP

There's rain on the line between his ear and mine/Lost in translation, bad patient/I'm a terrier, a black sheep, half-relation/He's French, a hack, white, Caucasian/We fuck in sadness, a cold frustration/Then we're fine for a while, our hearts adjacent/He types, I read and we clash on the keys/He corrects, I direct the bones of the text/But he's silent, too ill, too fragile, too still and I'm violent and rash, slow down for the crash

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