A web Rádio rock que toca, o que ninguém mais toca

You suck my body, you turn me over, you are second real.
The kicks are clear.
The high witch saying.
You are, weak you are running out, out of this mess.
And at the end, the fever, the fever.
It turns me down, the pain, the pain.
The pain is killing it touches me down.
Your fever has to reach, reach a hand.
If you got to come, do it steady.
If you got to run out, out of your fever.
What simple noise.
They call me the angel of life.
It surprises me, just a wild guy.
Let it be end, it is a loss of central nerves.
I am burning stable.
They call it yellow, well it is black.