1. |
La mort
03:40
|
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2. |
Suicide
02:56
|
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|
Le ciel bas, la lumière pâle
J'en ai ras le bol, j'en ai ma dose
Mon cerveau devient bancal
La grisaille me rend morose
Ce putain de vent glacé
Me rend de plus en plus détraqué
Je me gèle dans le quartier
Que de la zingue, les mêmes gueules cassées
J'peux plus respirer
J'suis en train d'étouffer
J'peux plus respirer
Putain de Nord-Pas-de-Calais
Toujours ce soleil froid
Je suis zoui, mais c'est comme ça
Je vais bientôt appuyer
Un shoot et ça sera terminé
Encore ce crachin qui me trempe
Me rappelle le flingue sur ma tempe
Je me bats pour qui, je me bats pour quoi?
Chacun pour soi, chacun pour soi.
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