Max M8 - Бессмысленные дни
текст песни

Instrumental - Dead Poetz Society - Klockuz

Meaningless days - my judges
You do not reproach - will not lose,
Gifts of fate will be
Or the remnants of the struggle in my fornication
Yes, this rubbish is not so difficult
In any currency, if only without fan
Blow the pollen like a buttercup
Like a jelly frozen on the way
How the work among Buden was disgusting me
Knock in the hollow like a woodpecker
We will be all there, the prize in the studio
Suddenly burst a degree from mercury, bam
Like an ostrich is frightened, but I will beat like a van
So you who are Namba van here,
I'm like a lifting crane
Yes, I will give you and bullets like a machine
Lubricate their plan, there are no ours there
We are always in the rash in porridge, so yes
Something like this, I will sell my soul for my truth
Road to the Spunge of the Traces, do not let the delirium into your ears, a fool
Cavardak, listen here
Who remembers the names of the brave
No one is right to do
Cases on the shelves in the departments
Among black and white
Life bands of the limit, no
Needles in that hay, nonsense
And someone will appreciate it at the center
Or ruble, extreme double
Yes, don't think about all this trash
Whoever you are there, just what you yourself are
Light from the sky did not beat such simplicity
Well, since you take brothers at a time,
So the rudders now, without pi*dy.

Chorus:
This is easier to poke what you thought and
This is what we are dealing with, we, we