Letra de Dieter-Cher Raga

de Dead Voices On Air
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I leap toward the south yeah
And attempt to burn my bridges
Way down to the equator
And back up north with the wind
I'm travelin'
And the last I heard twelve sad stories
From disciples of the sun
And we rang the bell
And fired the gun
To worship the perfect and sometimes cruel
Impartiality of the sun