Текстове на песни: Streets. Computers And Blues. Trust Me.
Trust me
Is the skyline sliced up into pieces and broken steel and mesh?
Or is the progress of process that's a natural people quest?
Metal and the workings, dark and lurking in my mind
Branded neon red and blue flashes, the view from the flats is nice
I see Alice in Wonderland, I see malice in Sunderland
Mouse to house, I am this land, the were without, it's Thumberland
Smoke to a karma coma, Jamaicans do yard and roamers
Shake Bacardi's and Coke and make me laugh and trust me
So much stuff and many people, the future is not evil
The future is not fish and it's simple, it's efficient
Now that things are costing nothing, is any of it good?
Come and love me, read my nothings, blogging river floods
Dead plant planted on the window ledge, shadows dance
Glint and blend, glance slow at the night outside, I'm God in the game
Sound rumbles in 5.1 round some corner to fight with guns
Play God in games but nothing in, trust me
Dub step, club sweat, come get rubbed red
Play the play list, play the play list
I see Alice in Wonderland, I see malice in Sunderland
House to house, I love this land, the were without, it's Thumberland
Do the wrong thing, joke it right, span the longings and the fights
For all the oil and the toil and the spoils of the royals
We are nothing if not nice, we are coughing if we are wise
Roll me up like a leafy spliff, fuck that, roll me up and trust me
Why is there so much noise? Reading info, buying toys
We all fear of company but we are fierce anonymously
Enter shit on the internet, clashing people, chatting evil
But we are cheery social sorts with the pleasing photo forward
Pass the love around and back to me, walking down a madman's street
The music in my ears is fleeting, struggle to shuffle to the same beat
We are nothing if not nice, we have a pretty buttered knife
Is the skyline sliced up into pieces and broken steel and strife
Anything you tell me, yes, yes, I will believe
But again and I suspect, again and I will leave
Slow burn a little heaven, roaming yearnings for Devon
Coburn '67, don't work for them, trust me
Dub step, earth run, red club sweat
Put up chests and freeze, freeze
Is the skyline sliced up into pieces and broken steel and mesh?
Or is the progress of process that's a natural people quest?
Is the skyline sliced up into pieces and broken steel and mesh?
Or is the progress of process that's a natural people quest?
Metal and the workings, dark and lurking in my mind
Branded neon red and blue flashes, the view from the flats is nice
I see Alice in Wonderland, I see malice in Sunderland
Mouse to house, I am this land, the were without, it's Thumberland
Smoke to a karma coma, Jamaicans do yard and roamers
Shake Bacardi's and Coke and make me laugh and trust me
So much stuff and many people, the future is not evil
The future is not fish and it's simple, it's efficient
Now that things are costing nothing, is any of it good?
Come and love me, read my nothings, blogging river floods
Dead plant planted on the window ledge, shadows dance
Glint and blend, glance slow at the night outside, I'm God in the game
Sound rumbles in 5.1 round some corner to fight with guns
Play God in games but nothing in, trust me
Dub step, club sweat, come get rubbed red
Play the play list, play the play list
I see Alice in Wonderland, I see malice in Sunderland
House to house, I love this land, the were without, it's Thumberland
Do the wrong thing, joke it right, span the longings and the fights
For all the oil and the toil and the spoils of the royals
We are nothing if not nice, we are coughing if we are wise
Roll me up like a leafy spliff, fuck that, roll me up and trust me
Why is there so much noise? Reading info, buying toys
We all fear of company but we are fierce anonymously
Enter shit on the internet, clashing people, chatting evil
But we are cheery social sorts with the pleasing photo forward
Pass the love around and back to me, walking down a madman's street
The music in my ears is fleeting, struggle to shuffle to the same beat
We are nothing if not nice, we have a pretty buttered knife
Is the skyline sliced up into pieces and broken steel and strife
Anything you tell me, yes, yes, I will believe
But again and I suspect, again and I will leave
Slow burn a little heaven, roaming yearnings for Devon
Coburn '67, don't work for them, trust me
Dub step, earth run, red club sweat
Put up chests and freeze, freeze
Is the skyline sliced up into pieces and broken steel and mesh?
Or is the progress of process that's a natural people quest?
Streets
Streets
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