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текст песни

The guy with tunnels hugged us after the performance
And I thought I was bursting with his shoulder like a fagot
After all, I was already older than Dostoevsky Fedor Mikhalych
on the day when he was jokingly shot

I'm older than Jan Curtis and Alexey Perminov
It was better to be alive or dead life
journalist writer as a driver in childhood
I did not dream to become anyone and came true to be honest

I am nobody that is realized in full seriously
I ride around the cities as young Chinaski I bring to tears
Women will throw fashionable clothes will change into no one
Lyle and Scott Carhart on a dick Olympic and coat

Fucking the forester of the forester to look over
Something broke down in me even anxious disappeared
fucking, I am nobody on grief, no one dick him
a hundred meters who fucks you

homosmia is sorrow we will not recognize this
homosexuals in pain shouted when they finished on each other
And I dream on the river Vuoks this summer
accidentally shoot yourself with a construction gun

how are you there Lena in a dull city of Kemerovo
maybe you still want to get pregnant from me
And I thought about us how good we were when we lived
Opposite the Ostankino Tower in a spacious apartment

And this morning there is a great probability
open mouth and pistol inserted there
A sharp shot suddenly pierces me
it seems this nail is stuck in my brains

Dostoevschina Bukovshchina Kafkianism
The cops of a prostitute beggar in wheelchairs
At the station came awareness my life is empty
lost the phone documents hope for happiness
I am nobody from nowhere to go nowhere like fucking
Peter Void would it be better if I did not get up with me
let's pretend that my anniversary has not come
and that there were no all these years to dad

Throw this garbage do not read the books of Mao Dzedun
said no need to oversleep the revolution, let's
Let's drink the seagull and the world will fail on the street
At the monument to the drunk Dostoevsky under the views

crafty migrant workers rust and rage people
how revived scraps in a restaurant is treason
or I am infantil or guilty Holden Vitamin Collfield
I really love every hand hidden

Behind the bosom in a coat in the heat in the summer an ax or disk
groups of animals dawns does not fuck schismatics anyone
Do not go to the risk kill the old women with the cops bow
Distant and adultery Dostoevsky

The old man was praised by suffering and
I wore a beard and was also the soil thanks to the school
I know something about the literature of the date of names and currents
But when my friend's cops were ripped off the cops

I cried and fucked up with despair and could not do
Even a sandwich I get confused in the world as in a net of football
The gate here you need to be a man can make a couple
tattoo and bald money

do it on children's bodies like Nikolai Baskov
But instead I will stumble in the subway and pay
so stupidly scattered flowers from the hands of that girl
this is not a concert by Morissy but a car carriage

Petushki is not the final point of the direction
You are all indifferent and eats like maggots
canceled a person by the name of Marmeladov
Beach volleyball picnic posters Topsiders

Dostoevschina Bukovshchina Kafkianism
Hipsters of Petushka football hooligans
On the picnic, my life is empty
lost money for weifers and hope for happiness
I am nobody from nowhere I have cocks
not like a group of Padla Bear, but like a homeless
Kazan station in the transition smelly bodies
Live well and I fucked my father's figure in my mouth