He was riding in an empty train
Speaking to no one, but his friend, Pain.
People watched him, and thought he's insane.
He wasn't insane, he dreamed of Cocaine Rain.

He was in love. The love killed his brain.
He was a man, who lost his name.
He wore the spikes and he wore the chain.
He looked through the window at Cocaine Rain.

He had enough money to buy a plane
Or to go to Vegas to play a card game.
He could've traveled to France and Spain,
But he took all his money and bought Cocaine Rain.

White as it is, is white to remain.
Nothing to lose is nothing to gain.
The breeze is the same as the hurricane.
And he is the one, he is Cocaine Rain.


вот такой вот гыгышный стишок откопал в залежах документов : ))

опять метаморфозы