Texty písní SEVEN MARY THREE The Economy Of Sound First Time Believers

First Time Believers

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I am a tiny machinist. I have the smallest plans. I have a mind television.
The gift of idle hands. I've been re-educated. To bleed technology.
Even more complicated than the machines who made me. I'm a wasteland messiah.
I'm a train run off the track. I'm a first time believer in.
What might never always does. Come back...There was a blackhole voice.
An interrupted transmission. It said to free yourself.
And that fear is your submission. I have the tiny tools.
To finish what I start. I have the vacuum tubes to eat your little hearts.
I'm a wasteland messiah. I'm a train run off the track. I'm a first time believer in.
What might never always does come back. I'm a ghost with a name.
I'm the now and never past. I'm a first time believer in what might never always does.
Come back. Yes, I want you. Yes, I want your mind. Blow it every time.
They say it's darker when a little light goes out than if it never had shone.
Of this I have no doubt. I drove the 44. To sun coming up sky.
And when I saw their cars, I just smiled in my surprise.
Little wasteland messiahs. Little trains run off the track. Little first time believers in.
What might never always does. Come. Little ghosts with a name.
Little now and never past. Little first time believers in.
What might never always does. Come back.
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