Depression, i gotta break free. Depression's got a hold on me. Depression's gonna kill me. Depression's got a hold of me. Depression, i gotta break free. Depression
译文: 美国噩梦. 抑郁.
better. Depression's got a hold of me. Depression, i gotta break free. Depression's got a hold on me. Depression's gonna kill me. Depression's got a hold of me. Depression
single stroke. She has agreed to install deadly cruise missiles on British soil Over which the Americans have total control. The American military presence
like December In the middle of July (so fuck it) We are dead flowers And pocket change - me Forcing smiles - so tragic baby We are the depressed
they got this bitch rigged to blow up in my face Duddy the first African American to walk in space Now who you think had the pleasure of tryin' on they new suit The nightmare
some little evil land With twisted cragily experiences Down below the Oregon Border (and fuck San Bernardino) I'm there in my dreams I'm there in my nightmares
at night I couldn't sleep 'cause my nightmares were nothing nice Volume 2 came out, got live in the press Regardless, I was still stressed and fucking depressed
likes to sing (AwareNess: So I told him, you know I'm just another american caught in between inspiration and depression) I'm just another American caught in between Inspiration and depression
-determination in one single stroke. She has agreed to install deadly cruise missiles on British soil Over which the Americans have total control. The American
the yard, to protect the premises Fuck Good Times, I'm talkin' about some of that Cosby shit Four bedroom home, white trimmed with green I'll be a doctor, regular American
joy [Chorus: x2] 1974, The president was Nixon The cut the umbilical chord and did the circumcision I was eight pounds, eight ounces A bouncing baby boy America's nightmare
got this beh rigged to blow up in my face Duddy the first Afro-can American to walk in space Now who you think had the pleasure of tryin on they new shit The nightmare
yard, to protect the premises Fuck Good Times, I'm talkin' about some of that Cosby shit Four bedroom home, white trimmed with green I'll be a doctor, regular American
[Chorus: x2] 1974, The president was Nixon The cut the umbilical chord and did the circumcision I was eight pounds, eight ounces A bouncing baby boy America's nightmare
