пчеловеческий индюк - очередное нудное
текст песни

The fourth hour of the night
Alas, you can’t sleep
You spread your hands
You fly like a bird

You open the shutters
You let the winter wind
You will shut off like snow
Today at dawn

We are so naive people
Stupid are unprofitable
About what worries us
We only say to the wind
And the psychoanalyst will tell you about the problem, not thinking about the fact that it will kill all these things ..

You think about tomorrow
Forgetting things today
Do not sell values
Don't think about work

Blind melodrama, without the logic of the dilemma
Everything is fine with us
And adult problems
From the world without a style,
Slaves of other people's traditions
To put on hoods and merge with your herd