Tekst:
Magic Numbers The The Pulse

What is it to love? What is it to feel? Am I all alone? Does it hurt to touch? It doesn't hurt enough What if I can't tell Why you just keep looking

Prijevod: Magic Numbers. Pulse.

straight out of star wars or star trek The brain of britain masterminds the nation From this curious vantage point It's an oracle, it's a magic eight

our steel with slaughter... Let every blow be a killing blow, grant us victory, or a warrior's death. Come, moon-fogs, Descend to cloak our numbers,

pit Dodge vapor, labor days are major A sir Cater the alien decomposer soldier platter like cabbage check eight I told her "go for C4 magic's" Smolder