Deticated to Jean Nicolas Arthur Rimbaud



Sale petit cagot
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Thou shalt not sin
The hypecrites grin
The walls are growing thin
The need to brake out grows weary
Need to brake out now
Can`t breath in this place
With these sheep
There is no sleep
Need to run
Run away
To brake out
Out of here

Nothing less! Nothing less!
No more gods!
No more gods!
O, this thoughts
They brake me from the hordes

Sleep, sleep
No more need
For the tolerance
Of the sheep