50 Cent Soul

Amaya López-Carromero

Though my faith is strong
You can't ask me to believe in fashion
The emptiness has well rooted
So deeply in their hearts


We are sleepwalkers
Teading on the empty silence
We are shells of casted muses
And the blaring sirens


In the hive you feel warm and sure
In the hive you are all so numb
Up your nose and down your spine
Down your throat and up your thighs
Stretch my arms towards the light
Void and nausea is all I find


All good will is lost, all neurons burst
Your idols wasted, like toilet paper
Pretty girls all packed like cans of beer
You thought you'd have one
But then you grab all 6
They're all the same
And the sale is on the one for free


Don't do this to yourself
Don't do this to yourself
Don't do this to yourself
Don't do this to the world


Pretty boys all fucked up
On jager and vic's
Thought you'd love one
End up trying with 6
They're all the same
And the sale is on the one for free
Don't do this yourself
Don't do this to the world

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