| Man, I feel like a superstar
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| In a high powered supercar
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| Shoot for the stars, no stopping me
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| I’m revving up a cacophony
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| Doesn’t matter whatever you offer me
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| Won’t swap it for anything, honestly
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| The road ahead of me’s calling
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| And pole position is where I’ve just got to be
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| I’m an ace in a race, set a pace
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| That’ll take you to a range of places
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| Make you say «Ooh, great, amazing»
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| A trail in my wake as I blaze away
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| ‘cause it’s the way that I make my paper
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| Do me a favour: Get out of my way, bruh
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| Boy racer with places to be
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| So it’s safe to say I’ll see you later
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| Forza Motorsport
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| Will open doors to a sort of ocean port
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| That’ll flow a course from coast to shores
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| The poetry of motion’s yours
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| Saddle up, we’re going on tour
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| You’ll ride astride your chosen horse
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| Through a load of applause
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| Such force
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| You were only supposed to blow the doors
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| Horsepower, galloping gallantly
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| Shoot for the stars, Galileo Galilei
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| Hey! |
| Don’t prang my McClaren, geez
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| The tab to patch up the damage
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| Is grand as your annual salary
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| And apparently you just cannot handle me
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| So hand me the keys as I shoot for the stars
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| Blasting these supercars
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| To a brand new galaxy
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| Let’s go!
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| There’s dead on every street
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| The city’s a cemetery
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| So evidently, you better believe
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| It’s better to get up and leave
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| If that’s something you’ll ever achieve
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| Well then you will need to get a bit mean
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| With the endless sea of horrendous beings
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| That’ll see your flesh as a delicacy
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| They want to find out how your meat tastes
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| One bite is all it takes
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| Should you make a small mistake
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| They’ll make you their next gourmet steak
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| The stakes have been raised, son
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| Can you stave the invasion?
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| From the cradle, to the grave, you’ll save
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| All walks of life and death when you slay them
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| I’ll make tools, then I slay fools
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| Though I break rules, stay faithful
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| To the label of a fellow cutting straight through you
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| From the nape of the neck to the navel
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| Maybe it’s painful, maybe it’s not
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| I don’t know, your brains are all rotten
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| And though you may have forgotten the way that it was
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| I won’t let you forget when I take you to God
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| With a homemade blade aimed straight at your schnoz
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| I don’t suppose there’ll be that much tissue left
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| To let you blow your nose
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| And so it goes on
|
| The contagion continues
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| It’ll blatantly take
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| Every grain of the patience
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| And latent frustration
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| That’s waiting within you
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| Skill…
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| Let’s take it back!
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| Rome, the place I name as my home
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| Made it my own and I’ll die before I see it overthrown
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| I’m one of the most valiant fighters
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| I’m known as Marius Titus
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| This city’s in my blood
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| As valuable as my life is
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| With all of the troops, Legions at hand
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| We’re ruling a huge region of land
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| Reaching through France and even Britannia
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| And for that, we’ve Caesar to thank
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| For seizing it and I think of the man
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| When I’m leading a siege and I see that the ranks
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| Are in need of command, eager to mangle
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| A people as weak as we are grand
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| Ryse…
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| This isn’t my kind of war
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| The thing that I’m fighting for
|
| Gibbon’s Decline and Fall
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| Didn’t begin describing all
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| The wicked things that Titus saw
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| His sight is raw, his eyes are sore
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| Lives withdrawn with violent force
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| Civilian killing with knives and swords
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| Now my kids and wife are torn asunder
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| Souls all but plundered
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| I hunger for vengeance on the men responsible
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| I’ve called their number
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| I’m a lord of thunder
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| Striding right in with the force and might
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| Of lightning strikes, I will never bore or tire
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| Of war or fighting
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| RYSE!
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| Welcome to the next generation! |