Still cold skillet 作词 : 小鱼 作曲 : 小鱼 编曲 : 小鱼 Still cold skillet. Our stove pumps for sight against the rise. Cooking up the silent storm in the kitchen of ice. No smile, so laughter, just the sizzle of the pan in this breakfast time, you book a paper, motions don't stand a chance. Coffee, no sugar, no cream, soft in the bite. Banana sliced with precision. A cold, calculated sight. Graff Bill benches, no warmth. Pancakes stack up like a wall in this culinary frost with feelings. Don't fall behind. No room for shake. Banana pancakes, a cool heartsake. I got your day with the first minute you everybody. A silence here. Eggs crack. With the stoic face. No joy in this creation scrambled into a harsh reality . No Celebration but her hardens, no melting is cold. Colonies seem morning's harsh masterpiece. A stark and bitter dream should be hard. No room for shake. Banana, pancakes, a cold heartsake. Everybody excited to see makes you love yourself. This is me favorite sport. But one thing, cake, cold start, spice. Like the sunset. This cold kitchen. The mushroom are dead now. Go for a shake. Banana, pancakes. Stretch down. Bye bye.Mix it rough. No softness in this mix. Flavors bold, but once been kicked, golden stacks rise like a sunthread in this cold kitchen. Emotions are dead. Still cold. Feel it. I'm stove. My first light begins to rise. Cooking up a sunstorm in this kitchen device. No smiles, no laughter, just a sizzle of the can in this breakfast mono cook, where emotions don't stand the chance. Black coffee, no sugar, no cream to soften the bite. Banana slice with precision, a cold calculate site crisp. I just, no one can kick suck up like a wall in this culinary frost. But feelings don't fall behind. No one for shake banana pancakes, cold heart sake. So today we was the first thing here. Everybody a silence here makes you know something is mix favorite sport. But once thinking hold this back, right? Like a solid bread in this cold kitchen, the motions are dead.Well, no softness in this mix. Flavors bold but won't spend kicked. Golden stacks rise like a silent threat in this cold kitchen, emotions are dead. 5,0,5,0.5,0,5.