март миру - Если не голоса
текст песни

I dream of a quiet house under the mountain
But the city is turning around again
We are of different breeds and short lives
You have to spin around in the frying pan
Hello this is la Vida Loca
We're all in the same boat, no one's hungry
Nobody's hungry pumping the speakers
Leather salons are our living corner
We are moving naturally
If for drama, then from the costume department
Sow spots on gray
We love the sky like Copernicus
Rubbing soles on the ground
The rivers are leaving the basins
The wind will spread across the planet
This is the seed that we will sow
We're racing in the left lanes
Our shooters don't go back
What's in our heads if not voices?
Thoughts fly like English troops
I dream of a quiet house under the mountain
But the garden is now a vegetable garden
In our short lives
No random turns
We're racing in the left lanes
Our shooters don't go back
What's in our heads if not voices?
Thoughts fly like English troops
I dream of a quiet house under the mountain
But the garden is now a vegetable garden
In our short lives
No random turns
What we write will come true
Someone from posters, someone sold on stock exchanges
ChatGPT draws scenarios for us
Grandma that the healer heals us
Throwing money down the drain for them
So the world moves like numbers in days
The tragedy here is endless comedies
Brain overloaded with intrusive media
Someone says we need to put it in a puzzle
A few details for your database
Then rest will burst into life, wait
Without a terabyte of data at 4G speeds
And maybe the boss will leave him alone
You run fast but right there at the beginning
Pump dump stock graphics
All hemispheres are clogged with traffic again
We're racing in the left lanes
Our shooters don't go back
What's in our heads if not voices?
Thoughts fly like English troops
I dream of a quiet house under the mountain
But the garden is now a vegetable garden
In our short lives
No random turns
We're racing in the left lanes
Our shooters don't go back
What's in our heads if not voices?
Thoughts fly like English troops
I dream of a quiet house under the mountain
But the garden is now a vegetable garden
In our short lives
No random turns