КАГИТОР - Биография
текст песни

Sharper than a razor, brighter than a quasar
Let's do it again, let's do it again
The teenage years
Let's do it again, let's do it again
Let's do it again, let's do it again
In a hot-wired ZIL, we're tearing through the streets, cracking up
Just a bunch of guys
Night falls, full of mystery; we cut through the courtyards
We craved beer, but we're carrying bananas instead
A rowdy crew—about ten of us
Our final destination: a warm apartment stairwell
The faces of the guys I hung out with back in childhood
Now just "Remember, Love, Mourn" posts on VKontakte
Empty pockets, but boundless imagination
We turned the drab daily grind into a celebration
A zero balance in my "Tadpole" account—I stiffed the beggar
Then a friend surprised me: on his wrist, he’d tattooed a swastika
You wore sneakers that didn't match—what an absurdity
That "limited-mixed" style actually felt organic back then
Borya swipes cash from his dad's bank card
Instead of four grand, he pulls out forty—so we buy a Moskvich
We race toward a ramp, screaming, blowing past the "No Entry" sign—and the Moskvich takes flight
The Moskvich flies, it soars—and we fly right along with it
Let's do it again, let's do it again, let's do it again, let's do it again
We storm the club—touchdown on the dance floor
Doing Tecktonik, or drunk jump-style just for kicks
No driver's licenses, but we’ve got a Mitsubishi—dancing just the two of us
Drenching that little room in sweat
At Rochev's summer house, stomping through the garden to the beat of drum & bass
Those golden days—I want them back, but they’re gone forever
How could it end like this? I’m going to miss it!
How could it end like this? I’m going to miss it!
How could it end like this? I’m going to miss it!
How could it end like this? I’m going to miss it!
I’m going to miss it! I’m going to miss it!
How could it end like this? I’m going to miss it!
How could it end like this? I’m going to miss it!
How could it end like this? I’m going to miss it!
I’m going to miss it! I’m going to miss it! Wrong side of town—we’d hang off the bus, while rivals slipped bricks under the wheels.
A showdown, a street parley—we settled it right there; shook hands and decided to stick together.
I’m on my way—"send me your location" on the mobile.
It’s a locust invasion—better lock up the fridge.
Nobody invited us, but we always showed up anyway.
Two car crashes—both times upside down.
Missed the lamppost by an inch—came out alive and well.
Respect to the powers that be.
Nastya was in love; the apartment stood empty.
The whole family went away on vacation.
Crowbar in hand, early morning—cutting the wires to the surveillance cameras.
Kolya and I got busted—ended up with a suspended sentence.
All in all, it wasn't great—though back then, it seemed like a blast.
Student stipend in hand—skipping classes with "Baldy."
Little "monkeys," "strawberries," and slot machines.
Pawning gold at the shop—fingers crossed for a payout.
We’ll win it back, we’ll buy it back—so quit giving us grief.
Autumn evenings—always a lively time.
The youth are choosing their career paths.
Young mycologists playing amateur psychologists.
Staring up at the sky like a pair of astronomers.
We celebrated my 18th birthday in style.
I cover her breasts with kisses...
While she’s on her cell phone, chatting with some guy.
Running down Svoboda Street, fleeing a skinhead and his German Shepherd.
Receiving a postcard all the way from Amsterdam.
Handcuffs on, face to the wall—the FSB is on the scene.
Court hearing, a second suspended sentence—all things considered, I got off easy.
The only real damage was upsetting my mom.