Listen to Jay

There's nothing, there's nothing,
There's nothing I can say

It's true, it's true,
I Kick them everyday

So what, so what,
That's why they pray

I can cause you admiration
I can cause you repulse
But never indifference

I know, I know,
I know my lost is your joy

I'm tired, I'm tired,
I'm tired of being a boy

I'll grow, I'll grow,
I'll grow to turn you into a toy

Come here, come here,
Come here and feel my power

Don't be, don't be,
Don't be afraid I'm a flower

Be cool, be cool,
Be cool and take my shower

Now that, now that,
Now that you've been blessed

Tell me, tell me,
Tell me what did you miss

I think, I think,
I think I should be kissed

Vasco Pompaelo*

Your ego needs an anchor

You're nothing but shit
till the day you give and get
nothing in trade

Get a little shame on you
before smacking your face
against the wall you made

You can be the best in town
but you'll never be
somebody around

I'm living, leading
In the top a ceiling
There's nothing you can
Throw to break me
You're worth shit
Not even a bit
You smell like dust
You look like lust

I'm changing religion
don't believe I'm god anymore
And now that the devil turn you down
You're praying to heaven

Searching inside of me
All I touch is my believe
Just to make you my seed

Vasco Pompaelo*

I crash my brain
on a tearfull sun
As I leave my sins
in a wonderfull run

Tearing appart the fools
garden play
I´m taking the leash
on an animal's pray

Stupidity rain
is flooding my town
All in the name of a
King with no crown

Pulling our gonads
as a bunch of crows
Killing away all the
things that grows

Flip flap clap with
a pose of Herodes
Licking his tiny weenie
like abandoned dogs

Carving deep a hole
on a barren ground
All in the name of a
King with no crown

Vasco Pompaelo*

A nosotros que nos le digan que hacer
Nosotros queremos balas para combater I no son balas de borracha o de métal
Son balas para enseñar i aprender
Balas para educar i entender

Estas balas no tiene gigabyte
Ni tu cara en la puta site
Es una bala humana
La bala que apura
La bala que es pura
Solo hace daño en tu cultura

Una bala que te da vida
No la que te quita la saliva


Vasco Pompaelo*

Angie

Into the sixty
Growing filthy

Acting like a teen
As where you've been

Poor fake rocker
Unable to be proper

Farting like a been
Pretending to be clean

Ego of a shitter
In the end a bitter

Dancing like a queen
Just being a scheme

Post cool faken
Depending on the baker

A parasite king
Putting brothers in a bin

Knowing you will end
With your shit in your hand

Unable to scream
The prick you've ben


Vasco Pompaelo*

Clearly tired of "hipocorrosivity"
trashed with fake nails in
your flawless soul.

A tic-tac for a king kong
as the moral plays your song

Attached to a past half limit
and fuly disguised

Pure impunity smashed the
reality.

The one cheated.

The one bought.

I'm geting closer to be far.
Thank God.

Vasco Pompaelo*

Passion,

Dangerous as fashion

Vasco Pompaelo*