Текст песни Roaming - Fyrce Muons

Swept under rocks the politician's magazines
Go find another finer race and cower in the stream
Rolling with intolerance a psychedelic wave
But I'm tolerant you say you say you say
While you're home you camouflage your name
You set upon a poison apple laced with Novocaine
You said, you said a melting of a scene
Rush it down, rush it down
Feels like going on a mission
Colored lights are flying in the skies of amber green
Feel it in the speckled skins of trout you've never seen
Touch the slippery lips of God who looks down from the sky
A festival, a festival I lie, I lie
Spinning wheels will magnify the swelling in my head
Like an open scanner it will tell me if I'm dead
The call, the call, the cackling of a crow
Hands in eyes, hands in eyes
Feels like going on a mission