Перевод песни Sage Francis – Polterzeitgeist
Работает на технологии Яндекс.Переводчика
Why you goin around, trying to keep people outta hell? I'm goin around, trying to keep the hell outta people. Your evil sends chills through my bones And it flows through the back roads of arteries. Genetic memory fights technology Administered by moral midgets Theres picket signs in my eyes when they strike You'll wanna talk business. Note to self; go for self, go for broke No one else ever showed you the ropes or helped And what are they supposed to do? Of course they gotta rebuild every wall that you broke on through. Drugs wont get my thoughts running, I need them to make thoughts stop coming Last night I had dream I shot someone When I awoke my hands were full of the fluid my hearts pumping I went to get it tested, the doctor was not so interested in analyzing the message He had a pill, that if he issues out He gets paid on the side, Got a lifetime supply. Maybe hes the ghost, and maybe I'm the host The polterzietgeist who knows the right price To pay the priest to release me from these ropes and Maybe I'm the ghost, and maybe hes the host The polterzietgeist who knows the right price To pay the priest to release me from these ropes Fell into a Venus fly trap with a nicotine eye-patch Pirate of the ship sipping Listerine night caps. disguised her voice with the breath of a clean slate awake every morning to the death of my dream date. selling sex to cheapskates with rusty blades fuck to forget and call it layaway Got an addiction to thin ice the whisper of wind pipes I'm mister insight, the social costume's skin tight nah, I don't believe in you and you don't believe that I'm leaving you. as you shrink away to nothing in my rear view to close to call, to far to be hearing you singing my melody I heard it subconsciously you spoke in your sleep, and it sounded like honesty When you awoke you said «it was not for me» I said «oh, I know obviously» You're not my yo-yo so I cropped the photo and I rocked this solo now you gots to go Maybe you're a ghost, and I'm the conduit the kinda thread in every superficial compliment the loose string in your moral fabric holding your logic, hopelessly romantic and (going??) psychic Leaving notes for the next to come written in blood from the wound that they'll exit from I don't compose rows or sonnets I just write like my life depends on it Front like I'm agnostic, but I don't believe in you You got a transparent nature that I'm seeing through somebody spiked the punch that you beat me to sometimes I'm not even sure its even you.