It ends at six, begins at nine. All things are fixed. The world's online. The data streaming in the crowd. Thin arrow burns and runs about. For all the Gods with their polearms, we've won, we've got, we've cut the arms, and knights from paper. Hole in nose. Take in, take out, and money blows. I think it's very clear machine. I think it's very plain machine. There's bubbling swap inside the brain. A lot of bugs, and they remain. My dream in market - just a dream. Developers broke up their team. The muffling tongues make mistakes real. We've lost, we've run - it's logic deal. We live in snow, we die in time, we play in show began at nine. Don't you see, it devoures me from hands? Don't you see, it devoures me from hands? Denied access in city lights. I think the sex is none for mind. Strange people living on the roofs, they used to prove the flight is true. The speech machine under the skin. This is a scene. This is a scene. I'm waking up at night. I scream. I walk the street. I'm in the stream. It seems it never lets me go. It seems it never lets me go.
Вот это уже больше похоже на готику! Музыка крутится в голове - некому играть!