Orijinal sözler
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Color me the king
Of aboriginal sin
In a city of fire
I walk a tightrope wire
From a whirlpool of fate
I hang on rusty gate
And shake my lantern jaw
Drift through burning walls
Much luck to the one
With will to become.
Color me the king
Of aboriginal sin
And help me find the sage
To end this nightmare age
Much luck to the one
With will to become.
