Самоделкин - Настолки с дураками
текст песни

Another board game with words
But who sits at these huge tables?
What to do if the box says age three?
And you still haven't understood these rules of the game?
You're already thirty.
And page after page.
You still can't fully accept it.
That you're plastic—that's your limit.
A certain number of sided dice for one born to roll.
The time you've lived is in the imprints of these cards.
But someone hides it in typos, and the fool.
He doesn't just sit in a chair and shuffle.
He doesn't see his reflection and foolishly bluffs.
The rules are simpler for him.
Purely instinct.
So he walks his whole life like a cat.
And moos like a bull at everyone.
To hold the queen in his palm.
He'll never be able to.
After all, he's not even a piece.
But a cardboard board.
Another box with brains.
Stuffed with hyphenated words.
Cast from greasy, dim-witted simplicity.
Those thoughts don't They stick in like sharp knives
Another box of brainless things
Hyphenated, stuffed with boyish words
Cast from greasy, dim-witted simplicity
Those thoughts don't stick in like sharp knives
Two sixes on the shoulder straps of a domino board
Two eights on a barrel from a lotto bag
You're the last one at the table, who's from the deck of fools
Your game master is a lying trickster, the stupidest of the gods
Two sixes on the shoulder straps of a domino board
Two eights on a barrel from a lotto bag
You're the last one at the table, who's from the deck of fools
Your game master is a lying trickster, the stupidest of the gods
Another board game with guns
But who's sitting at these huge tables?
Another board game with guns
But who's sitting at these huge tables?
Another board game with guns
But who's sitting at these huge tables?
Another board game with guns
But who's sitting at these huge tables?