Salmo - Un Dio Personale (Official Video)





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Published on Apr 4, 2011

I'd like to see you dying in line
I watch you with half a smile in my hands
I've got a quarter of a tequila glass, it's the divine plane
And he (God) sends missionary zombies
To pray there wouldn't be enough beads on the rosary
No mercy
Stone Hearted, wedding ring on your middle finger my friend
We are like seeds fallen over the granite
(meaning that we as human being we are like the black dot over the granite.....hardly visible to the naked eyes)
A pervert in a cloak emanates a celestial light
You've got a crown of thorns on your head
I go inside the church with a Winchester rifle
Everything's ok, Everything's ok
For a life
drawing a cross in the air with two fingers
And how is it going?
And how are you doing?
I Know life is a bitch, I've written her numbers in every toilet
Inked rain, I wait under with white sheets
Before you sweep me away
With the name of Katrina's (referring to hurricane Katrina)
Pray Shiva
My story line is destructive
I have a personal God(jesus) inside a personal(joint)of Cannabis sativa
No compromise
Give'em what they ask for, I record verses on the phone
Hoping that they'll intercept it
I speak with gestures from the Morse Code
Whose stares remain enchanted,
I ruin those who listen to me like the Doors in the 70's
Everything's ok, Everything's ok
I dream of skeletons and dead children on swings
God (Jesus) died in vain, God (Jesus) died in every human being
God(Jesus) died in all the the Vatican City banks
Everything's Ok, Everything's Ok
Between the hyena bites
We are like like Alice in Chains (referring to an American metal group)
And how it's going?
How are you?
I know life is a bitch, I've written her numbers in every toilet
I'd like to see you die one on top of each other piled up
If you can't stand me, queue behind the 8 thousand
Pray deeply, no one sleeps,
My corpse is getting shape
Here I die inside two steps of freedom, put there in an illogical sense
A cyanotic Christ follows me with his sight inside a painting
Optical effect!
Everything seems normal, normal
Like a priest, a minor and sexual abuse
Christian Mafia craves, what counts is money
Can't see if the eyes blur
I smoke and anxiety eats me
A scare one thinks about himself, and the rest goes by itself
'cause it's handy not to know, so I say that
Everything's ok, Everything's ok
If you die, I die
We'll do it together
We are ruined, without dream, without faith,
No money, no Church
A personal God (Jesus)

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