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± PPS (tempo): ♩ = 111 pulsaciones por minuto
Well, there’s a thick fog coming out, Fits me like a coat. Six white horses in a line Waiting for the rope. I crack my whip To start to run Moving faster Than a bullet for my gun. Sparks lay down, Couple streets, Terror reaches the town Riding the hottest rod around. Looking for some passenger Around the scarce town, Many took, I ride for free, But it never came around. I send the door (hey) Behind their back (hey), Chewy scream In lofty neck. Sparks lay down From my eye, Terror reaches the town Riding the hottest rod around. Six white horses neigh me now, Welcome everybody to price of fan job, Bale of herb and a bale of hay, Chasing rushes every day. Well, there’s a thick fog coming out, Fits me like a coat. Six white horses in a line Waiting for the rope. I crack my whip (hey), Start to run (hey) Moving faster Than a bullet for my gun. Sparks lay down (hey), Couple streets, Terror reaches the town Riding the hottest rod around.