| Probability | Text |
|---|
| 99% | You call this a party? The bear is warm, the wind is cold, and I'm hot under the cover. | ▶️ |
| 96% | Hiding and running through cold rainy night The red spot of leisure at my only life Hunter or Hunter, it is of the same I'm an agent A part of this deadly game You say freedom cannot be spelled out by dust? Would you rather see kept dressed agents on the run? Conspiring from hiding they're running your life With the various methods they take, oh my, so they try But they cannot be, cause we the agents We'll never give in | ▶️ |
| 94% | Hiding and running through cold rainy night The red spot of leisure at my only life Hunter or Hunter, it is of the same I'm an agent A part of this deadly game You say freedom cannot be spelled out by dust? Would you rather see kept dressed agents on the run? Conspiring from hiding they're running your life With the various methods they take, oh my, so they try But they cannot be, cause we the agents We'll never give in | ▶️ |
| 98% | This is cold. | ▶️ |
| 97% | This cold old tomb light, the leaves are falling from the trees again The remits is haunting me, the darkness is waiting But I don't let it come | ▶️ |
| 100% | Cold metal, rotten fruit, insects dying of pesticides. This is my garden of pain. A nightmare on the dark side. | ▶️ |
