Lyrics:
receptions everywhere you go
Blinded with desire, I guess the season is on
So you train by shadow boxing, search for the truth
But it's all, but it's all
receptions everywhere you go
Blinded with desire, I guess the season is on
So you train by shadow boxing, search for the truth
But it's all, but it's all
They are forced to search the space
These people have to find a home for their race
The earth is gone - just blown away
And only destiny brought this
Obsessed with patterns
Amidst the madness
A lust for meaning
A search for balance
Inductive logic
Who's the prophet
Arrange an Order
Chaos:
Secret moviment against
Any regiment
Maintained by violent attacks
To persons and states
Cause of wars by stranger ideals
Groups all around
in Paris, France
After a quick reintroduction, the group reverts back to their roots
And commences the search for a suitable Magic Moments replacement
Peyton Give Them Hail
And without him
The group ain't nothing but a group in search of Peyton
Matter of fact
I been thinking
We should call the group
school and played with
A group called the Beatles, and
Here he is with a
Book again I think "Is he deep?" "Is he arty
With it or cultured?" there are bound
glance upon the beauty and the wonder to be found
Then know that you can stop your search
'Cause love is all around
Yeah!
Free at last, free at last
from underground rivers
Wash your face between our legs
While recreating humanity, we will summon yemanja
Search for our fertility, ban all pink
out
A talent-search was on
Auditioned with ambition
A vision
En Vogue was born
To sing, the essential ingredients mended
Four individuals
but with much more consultancy
– In groups we search ironically to
Find our self identity, embracing femininity
Skeptics of affinity – maybe
Neither
Search for purity leads to insecurity
Individuality an incapability
Trapped within outside theories
Ideals adopted, agreeable on basis
Yet
Everywhere I go
Misfortune follows
Me like a killer
Deranged and drenched in agonizing woe
Try to escape it
So cold and jaded
Becoming the clinical misanthrope
is happening in such a lovely suburb
Police and chief in high alert, investigators need to search
Sources say there were two gunmen but people claim
cause that's where I'm at
Fuck the bullshit, be it far from me to pop that
In the search for truth, I go a lot of ways
There's not a lot of peace that I
the things you think about, they only think of you
Everything you search for, and all that you do
You search for things to destroy you
Think of who you know
into the non-abelian
One must search thoroughly through the further expanse of the groups
The generators spontaneous breaking will indicate
The presence
ahead of a group intervention
Hate crime, suicide
The chance of a lifetime
Race wars, homicide
Another lovely day
Kill the moonlight
Strangle
mind
I’m speaking on it currently
Ima stay Sucka free
Cause all my n*****
F*** with me
ISO
In search of
In search of
Don’t forget the dollar sign
ISO
In
have persistent ball pains that don't have a clinical cause
This is called chronic epididymitis
The three individuals accused
Collectively known
Search for purity
Leads to insecurity
Individuality
An incapability
Trapped within outside theories
Ideals adopted,
Agreeable on basis
Yet
a heave-ho
And stimulate your cerebral system
Cut Chemist
Grip the fader
Tuna the group debater
We murder you duplicators
'Cause I'm an aristocrat
Here at the end of the grave
Like a premature sleep
the result of the brave
Proud to be Dead
We'll search through infinity
and revenge with our
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