скептический - пандора
текст песни

These are not the holidays of statistics as if in Stockholm
Eternal fellow travelers Prose -pain
All the same prose and ordinary views of the desert
In pseudo -acischetism, dissatisfaction with simple things
In a circle only damp, smoke and getting used to noir
Seasonal mourning, persecution, terrible injury
Your normality is a fiction of a sick principle
What eats you with tears and whims
Ghosts go on chariots from snow
The beauty of dawn kills VHS cassette
Autumn died? I am a fan
I inhale the smell of the skin like a character buttherait
Black will not hide the face of your incarnations
All this rot directs to the surrogate world
Just wake up, collect your details in the puzzle
The gray -haired old man all the streets paints in red

Black looks from human eyes
Black is looking at us now
From the corner, and who opened this Pandora box?
Everyone will be sent to food in the present
Black looks from human eyes
Black is looking at us now
From the corner, and who opened this Pandora box?
Everyone will be sent to food in the present

Seconds press on the larynx with a mechanical press
There is no news from the clergy of heaven
It is uninteresting to live like this, in crumpled paper
Poems live according to their own concepts
Bring to the seventh sweat playing hide and seek
With me, dreams are discouraged by a dense wall
Like a barricade like a shirt with a white strip
Stretches my life but I know the way home
The flesh wrapped where does the bus take me?
Sowing voice your pristine cosmos, seriously
Siberia climate, and again a puberty period
Dejaugu again shows the way to the graves
And the shops that lure the light of the showcase
You need to wash your head from dirt from the inside
Disharmony in the sound of the drainage flute
The city is sick, blackness becomes more noticeable