God does not have the keys

If a man has four walls
has an opportunity
does cold out it
falls the rain
my door is closed
and god does not have the keys

The hell is a solitary place
burn is better that die frozen

The smell of the unbearable life
smell in the sewers
in the walls
in the corners

Dressed foxes of red sing
leather wine-bottles
with his opened cunts

Sharks dressed Armani's
condone in the pockets
radio stations at random
take to me to the second corner boulevard

The hell is a solitary place
burn is better that die frozen

If a man has four walls
has an opportunity
does cold out it
falls the rain
my door is closed
and god does not have the keys