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Saturday, 6am

Here I go again
Sitting here, writing words
As simple as anything,
When it's Saturday, 6am
My things are packed,
And my space ship is ready
Maybe it's even easier,
When there's no one who's waiting for you
 
We are not captives of the matrix of fate
Do what you must, and come what may
Your soul will spread wings and fly
From high above
Everytime my phone's ringing
I know, it's you
 
If there are sentiments,
I need no morality,
Just boundaries of art
And a fairytale dream
We will not be forsaken
We will leave on this earth
Genuine pieces of wonder,
Even if they are covered in ashes and dust
 
We are not captives of the matrix of fate
Do what you must, and come what may
Spreading wings, your soul will fly
From high above
Everytime my phone's ringing
I know, it's you
 
Testi originali

Суббота, 6 утра

Clicca per vedere il testo originale (Russo)

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