City Of Cold-Raised Fist

We live in the city of cold. And even though I have to admit, that sometimes we love to spit on it. But I would take a million bullets for it, the centre of this story. And when I quit, to commit to the pit. And when I＇ve stopped to transmit, bury me in a hole under my favourite tree. Wait a bit, say goodbye, put a f**king lid on it and split. We live in the cit y of cold, strangely enough we＇re proud of it. When at home burning the flag, when away living in a bag. Getting mad, feeling sad. City of cold, On with the shoeshine. Stepping on those f**king toes, now and forever. The city of cold where you can＇t grow old. And when I quit to commit to the pit. And when I＇ve stopped to transmit, bury me in a f**king hole, Wait a bit, say goodbye and off you go. We live in the cit y of snow. So small and cold, five hundred years old. No stories untold, no one is in control. Sounds cute I know, small city with snow, one street, no flow. And even though I mostly hate the snow, Now and forever, it ＇s better then hating people I don＇t even know. And even if you want your own fame to grow, I wouldn＇t talk sh*t about people I don＇t even know.