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There is nothing real
(in little garden).
Try to help me touch the ground,
`cause everything seems to be same.
Purple haze is slowly melting
inside of my blue brain.
Wild horses slowly galloping
on waves of the sky.
And fireball is over my head,
and it wants to be called the Sun.
/: Oh, there is nothing, nothing :/ real.
Yeahhh, yeahhh all around,
yeahhh, yeahhh isn’t real, yeahhh ...
Bystrík:
Dvd Lucy:
Babylon:
Andy:
