As I sit on this bus bench I look around and smell a foul stench I try to identify this foul smell What could it be,? I can?t tell?. I know what it is
Übersetzung: The Rapture. The Smell.
grow Or die, Gwenevieve, a ghost in the night Smell smoke, see the glow in her eyes, I try to tell you You don't need to see the fire to smell the gasoline
journey, boundless nightmare Can not find the light Can not find the way Humanity has left us Abandoned us to fate Can not move... can not breathe Smell
m falling into guru muhk She moves in a rapture That her capsule might Land on your star Meditating in the morning Head dressed in white Beauty bazaar You can smell
protection from one time, only caught for my prime So I asked the Father what I did so wrong? 'Cause shit, it's been hard for me besides chief And the smell
But who really cares? You just throw it in the air, Celebratin wealth, pourin Mo«t in her hair- Excuse me, her weeve- the bluest of weed, Trunk full of white, car smell
really cares if you just throw it in the air Celebratin' wealth pourin' Moet in her hair Excuse me her weave the blue is her weed Trunk full of white, car smell
e-y-e just soak it in like mother earth who was once this jewel is just a sess poop for fools truly world theres another chapter to that never ending capture rapture
out of these vows of these men of structure Whoa I wanna get connected So we can get electric Then we'll set our souls free dancing into rapture Oh
this song for me Call me within your holy house to dwell Let me raise for myself in spell Voluptuously dancing daughters of the night sky Sing the rapturous
of twisted nerves Stream Cold liquid streams Sweet silver smell I'm floating in Adhesive light Self-tasted kinds Transcendently devitalized Where rapture
m falling into guru muhk She moves in a rapture that her capsule might Land on your star Meditating in the morning, head dressed in white Beauty bazaar You can smell
judgement upon them. Now, move!" I can smell the stench of Chaos, there's something rotten about this town Behind these walls, unholy rapture But I'
a mic so we can paint this image of the gifted-anxious, to flip the language it's the noun meltdown from the outer-shell now smell the burning flesh
