кровь из носа, Metox - скандинавская тюрьма
текст песни

Scandinavian prisons are full of spineless people
A warlike husband cuts through a Lada
There are rivers of wine and a choice of dishes
But we, it seems, don’t need this whim
The artillerymen’s peals chirp
Only on holidays - modestly, - sparkling wine
There - the woolen ones chirp about new gadgets on their dildos
We breathe freedom in gloomy basements
We give names to spiders, cockroaches
I remember how you bewitched me
And we enter the Russian field naked
You know where my foot will not be
And I’m not talking about mines now
I’m buying up your charm from criminal jewelers
Try to leave me now, bitch!
In the punishment cells, the primordial wisdom
The guard lay in the gruel with food
And the vast tundra groans, wheezing
About faith, victory, and common misfortune
Rublev writes LHVS on the wall
And the withdrawal syndrome
That which held us together near the closed doors at seven in the morning at the K/B
They are looking for names for new diseases
But we do not know them - and it is sweet in the coffin
I remember I shaved a Tajik bald with a blade
And taught our language
I am gradually filling up with all this nonsense
After all, genetically - I am someone's coachman
My replacement is Oscar
And I shit on Oscar
And was undoubtedly like that!
It is so sweet to shout in chorus: hurray!
To wash with dew in the garden in the morning
To dance Nagovitsyn's songs
Why do I need all your even buts, even ifs?
I know that you are superior to me in intelligence
I know that in your opinion we breathe crookedly
And what is all this to me? - when I rush, smiling, into pitch-black hell
And I shout to my people: why are we standing? (Hurray)
And I shout to my people: why are we not Rome? (Hurray)
And my people shout to me: look! cranes!
And already together we are silent knee-deep in blood And I shout to my people: why are we standing? (Hurray)
And I shout to my people: why are we not Rome? (Hurray)
And my people shout to me: look! cranes!
And together we are silent knee-deep in blood
Prisoners of systems as old as wars - call us whatever you want
A lot of people who lost their balls overnight hide their nationality
But not a single naive idiot is a moral compass for me
I got it on my phalanges so as not to forget what a framework is
So that I don’t torture myself with shame for someone else’s fuss for the sake of approval
Nobody cares about anyone, it’s time to stop believing in stupid masnya
Finally, celebrities have unclenched their asses, because they are no longer milked for a speech about the war
Now we all scream together from the relocators, they now know what it means to be in shit
Today, even teenagers understand the boundaries of relativity
After all, good is where you and I won’t be invited, we are neighbors in a cage
I see in tg how a couple more dilapidated huts have been destroyed into dust from a couple of well-aimed
I thought about all this, that's why I was spinning parametric for about forty minutes
More joy, if you hear all this now, then don't be sad
In the end, you and I have now been sentenced only to life
And while you are exploring the myriads of satisfying dicks, stoned with whim
Anything is possible and life will pass you by in multicam camouflage
And I shout to my people: why are we standing there? (Hurray)
And I shout to my people: why aren't we Rome? (Hurray)
And my people shout to me: look! cranes!
And we are already silent together, knee-deep in blood
And I shout to my people: why are we standing there? (Hurray)
And I shout to my people: why aren't we Rome? (Hurray)
And my people shout to me: look! cranes!
And we are already silent together, knee-deep in blood