Rane - Glass World | Текст песни

• Тексты песен
• Rane
• Glass World

Come closer, I'll try to make it positive, cope with it
This city never sleeps, choosen one, frozen but explosive,
I think - it has everything, world of slavery & kings,
Home of seven sins, sense of sorrow & sour golden rings.
But since I came there for the first time,
In my mind I rewind flashes of a highlights
With unstoppable hope in marvelous tommorow,
Which is really green like just-printed dollar
Can you hear me, my glass world ? - I belong ya..
I'm just a foreign phrase in your amazing crossword
My concrete coffin, drowning in a cup of a coffee
I don't need your profit, let me stay and perform it
Then let me cry on your shoulders
You're like an inner torch in us, gorgeous but twisted,
Keep mystery of a system, glass world of shop assistants
I love you so much, I love this feeling of freedom
But I can't see your sky under your bricks & steel domes
Just give me one more minute, full of fake smells of spearmint
And all I need is just stay here & experiment with your green lights,
And insane spirit.
Your Miss Liberty, I miss her spikes, when your jazzmen sing.
I'll run through East 24" Street at the high speed.
And I'll do my best to hide from your sweat sting, sick eclipse
In your eyes, taste of tips on your sticky lips, I'm your Mel Gibson
You're my apocalypse, rock cocktail of tobacco leaves mixed
With wine & cheese next to beer and pizza, I'm lyrical wizard.
Extra-terrestrial weatherman, lost in paradise called New-York City,
You better close your eyes, 'cause only sky is the limit..

From Brooklyn bridge 'til Central Park - kind of bark in the dark
Because it's scary sometimes and you tired, but like fire spark
When your heart is under attack, it can retard any sly shark,
I'm tryin' to pick up my soul shards, emotions are blowing up
Rocket is ready to drop bombs, 9\11 and 8:46 o'clock
Where's your Glock 17 and final lock down ? That's red heat
On your block, Uncle Sam, where you are, I need a hug..
That's how my feelings look like, when I'm walking with clouds
It's not the rhyme bubbles but rhyme donuts in huge hands
Of McDonald's clown, Titanic of my hometown is dyin' in
tentacles of riptide, so it's my own American Dream and
It's my own pride - while music is my flight up to cream skies,
Size of my scream is like sunrise, I wanna wake up on a grass
And see the Empire State stars, so please be careful with this
Amazingly massive glass of world, where my dreams live.
Apollo Theater in my palms, I'm the Wall Street charging bull
My words is bottomless pool in the vortex of angry fools
New York rules carved on smooth walls of this crystal palace
Rest in peace, Christopher Wallace, who tried to tell us
How juicy this life can be, and god bless the master Rakim
There are a lot of microphone fiends on their dirty streets
Music is their point of highest treat, breathe this weed in
And breathe your soul out like Bruce Springsteen
Here we go, headphones is ready to take you to NYC
I love this place, it's really bigger than it seems...

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