Oomm

Oo-mm
Oo-mm

I clean the backpack of those days that are gone and are not here today
They went to fuck new dreams that are old without sleeping

I mix symphony in coffee
And I'm going for a walk
Whistle at the window of the faithful friend
I talk about the lame with Nike
He tells me about Ivan
Julia and Denis
From the secret in the palate

Feel
What's more?
On the shore is the canal

Oo-mm
Oo-mm

I have a gold-edged pair of scissors resting next to me
Because lies make my hair gray and I have to cut them

The shit that is there
On TV
He wants your illusion to be soft
Bellies cannon shots gilding the sun
With strength on the surface of the skin
I mix symphonies with coffee
The road is made to walk

Feel
There is more
A new channel