Плакин М., Воскресная Школа feat. Слава КПСС - Вичхаус
текст песни

The sun, swollen from the frenzied night, rises, warming the facade of the house. Hello!
How are things with subcultural tensions? No one gives a shit, I get it, it's the times.
Other details
Nevertheless
At lunchtime, we sing "Grob"
Arkanar is awesome
But you need an indulgence to yell obscenities
And Don Rumata is no longer a progressive -
Just like a local clown
Yelling in the street: "It's not hard to be a god"
If you're an aggressor
Without a king in your head (naturally)
Thin layers are now also a scam
Also a disaster, they've filed it down
You try to summon the devil -
A foul-mouthed gnome will appear
Only pennies, last year's memes
What a time - such demons
(Such demons)
And I listened to music from the 2000s, and what the hell -
Not Fellini films, not Baroque, Guohua
Clay vases, statues of muses, napkins and knives
After all, fucking Witch House has atrophied taste
Fucking Witch house ruined everyone's lives
And I remember synths, 808 bass
And I remember sheets of poetry about us
And I remember a simple, yet so familiar sound
And how they sang "Salem" to us both
And I remember synths, 808 bass
And I remember sheets of poetry about us
And I remember a simple, yet so familiar sound
And how they sang "Salem" to us both
And I've masturbated to Russian rap my whole life
Like my grandfather did with Russian rap
I never listened to rock, which was a reproach
My classmates used to give me
When I skipped classes, I walked purely in rap style
Even when I was feeding the ducks with Nastya
Instead of thoughts in my head, rap lines sounded
What kind of HIV, what kind of home? (Nintendo)
I used to want to be a poet
But I couldn't read shit as a kid
That's the whole point—the rap craze:
At six, I was listening to Krovostok, and rap became ingrained in my subconscious
I didn't know Brodsky, and "Blok" for me is primarily a part of Minecraft—
It's not a punchline, it was just like that
So when I'm feeling particularly bad
I read rap, not Blok
"I haven't become a poet, and I never will be,"—so wrote Ryzhiy, but what does that mean?
Language warms the goy:
Either he didn't become a poet
Or the inner poet hasn't abandoned him
I don't know
But I remember how you didn't like all rap
And I remember how you didn't watch VSRAP
And how you wanted a completely different sound:
So that they would sing Salem for us
And I remember how you didn't like all rap
And I remember how you didn't watch VSRAP
And how you wanted a completely different sound:
So that they would sing Salem for us
I make rap better than anyone
Everything would be different if I had even a shred of intelligence
But now it's like Tolik from the lower internet:
Whining to the Salem mixtape
And the question: "What have we become?" — all Pokémon ask themselves
After a series of evolutions
A gray sun above the high-rises
And here I am, 15, and we're getting draft beer
Sitting on half-accordions, like flies on the rim of a toilet
Life passes us by
And we're characters from a Jack London story
In the end, our luggage will be ruined
How many have the noose killed—and I killed the loop
Our songs are forum floods
And here are a couple more lines, hoisted on gravestones
I will dissolve in the most tender fog of oblivion
And was I ever there? Or is it just this waste of language
Poisoning the purest river of time
But I don't remember anything—I don't want to remember
I just want to disappear, like in the Starfall video
Hide from the storm in a cozy cabin
But the thoughts that arose destroyed me
And I don't want to remember them and not be captive
To the choices made by someone else
But at the moose station, everything that was merged
Into a murky stream that destroyed me