Comatose - Grisha Mix - Front Line Assembly

Here today

Gone tomorrow

What’s the flavor

Can I borrow?

Beg or steal

What’s the deal?

Beats for the money

He’s not real

Who stole by the hand

Who stole by the hand

Like grains of sand

We’re blown away

A darkening sky

We fade away

Feeling sorrow

Don’t mean a thing

Fame and fortune

Are everything

Bite the bullet

See the man

Feed his EGO

No more time

You feel the rhyme

Afraid to speak

The flavor’s weak

Life is cheap

No time to speak

Ride the wave

No sync to slave