Oomm

Oo-mm
Oo-mm
I clean out the backpack from those days that are gone and not here today
They went to mess with new dreams that are old without sleep
I mix symphony in the coffee
And I go for a walk
I whistle at the window of the loyal friend
I talk about the limp with Nike
He talks to me about Ivan
Julia and Denais
About the secret on the palate
To feel
That there is more
On the shore is the channel
Oo-mm
Oo-mm
I have a sharp golden scissor resting next to me
Because lies grow gray hairs and I have to cut them
The shit
On TV
Wants to soften your illusion
Bellies cannon shots basking in the sun
With strength on the surface
I mix symphonies with coffee
The path is made to walk
To feel
There is more
A new channel