paroles de chanson 44th Floor - Jehst

Por favor!
Por favor!

Yo, nothing makes sense
Everything′s a tangled mess up inside my head
Drug dependent, I'm living on the edge
Hudsucker building, standing on the ledge
Ready to plummet to my death
My girl asking herself "Was it something that I said?"

He never did take criticism well
Official card-carrying citizen of Hell
I built a wall of sound
My citadel repel and impale
Nobody ever lived to tell the tale
Still I′m feeling like my life's a major fail
Standing on the platform
Waiting for British Rail

Throw myself on the tracks
Like I do with these raps
Where the drugs at?
A brother gotta relax
It's like he′s become totally detached
Socially inept
Yet they′re throwing me the snatch
Big fish, he's supposed to be a catch
Take notice how he chats
Is it poetry? Perhaps

But, they′re never showing the acknowledgement for that
'Till your image get polished
Keep the policy intact
Talking industry politics with cats
Properly smashed to probably hit the bottle ′til he's lashed
Drink driving through life like Brands Hatch
No goals all season

Still he′s man of the match
Crash dummy splattered on the dash
The hooded executioner brandishing the axe
Dust to dust, ashes to ash
Disappear like a dealer selling cabbage on your patch
The parasitic want to cash in on the act
Call the paramedics quick
They can try and bring him back

Before it all fades to black
Lifeless, laid on his back

Can I get an encore, por favor?
Hudsucker building
44th floor

I'm on the 44th floor
Fucked up how I'm feeling
44th floor

Can I get an encore, por favor?
Hudsucker building
44th floor

I′m on the 44th floor
Can′t crack the glass ceiling
44th floor

Falling from the skies
His whole life flashed before his eyes
The many faces of who he loved and despised
Those close enough to see through my disguise
Sentimentality
My demise catalysed
No cat's eyes
Only oncoming headlights
Back-page obituary
Front-page headline

Got ′em scratching their heads like head lice
Skull about to burst, like my head's in a vice
No suicide note
So they′re left to surmise
Just a glass half-empty
Except for some ice
And the ashtray
Full of roaches left behind
Now they're queuing up behind
Like Lemmings in a line

From here all the way to Palestine
72 virgins waiting in paradise

When I reach the other side, yeah
Better to die than have all my beliefs undermined
I defy on a front line seeking a divine
Seek and you shall find
Flatline