nomadic chronicle
gogol bordello
back when i was young and crazy
yeah. stole some money from my mom
and i hit the road to leningrad. i get stopped on the next train stop
in the middle of rural ukraine. this is how it's all begun
and i will tell this story of a true rebellion. hoya hoya hoya
moya paranoia. maybe i'm a man who is propelled
spinning circles of his doom. or maybe i'm just paranoid
placed by the lord in this room. and a bottle will always be my cover. all of your eyebrows
will you please untie. and if there's any room for a roma
what else is there left to romanticize?
this is only when i'm drunk
or do i see things any clearly?
it's just like when one is dyslexic. whatever
moya paranoia. no ti dura.