Bakhtin - В яме
текст песни

There is bread, there is water in the tap, there is butter on the knife, everything seems to be the same as everyone else’s, but there is a nit in the soul, I live, I want, I sing, the calendar counts, plus the rusty sun seems to be baking in the sky. And in my head - buy it! But sometimes it’s a waste, so the hole stretches upward, creeps into the expanse and the hole suffocates, the sweat is expelled, it’s not I who climbed here, the flowers wither in the hole.
Night, city lights, fog in the head, all the same faces, the same drunken farce, no one is needed - like an old man or a grandfather, look in your pockets for yourself - there’s nothing in your pockets, there’s nothing in your pockets, there’s no money in your pockets, your head hurts, emptiness , wilderness - the pit is snuffling, my childhood died here - I buried the corpse, I will also perish here myself, among the concrete huts

Not here, not there, there is no life, you know it yourself,
It hurts, but it only strengthens what God left us.
To yours - salam, don’t believe in the tears in the pit, even though they hurt for a long time, even though your heart is in half

I've traveled a lot for a year, I saw the heads smoking, but I didn't ask, there's noise in the pit, there's dust in the pit, there's blood on the teeth in the pit, you've gathered your strength into a fist, a crooked step or you're completely silent and motionless, a bruise or approaching a heavy bench press, fisherman or minnow, you are a stupid fish, thank you for being alive, bitch. Russia, mother, love us and let us live, the only thing left to do is drown the stone in our hearts, people encourage us to give up on everything. Here - dad! A broken dog, unwashed thoughts, unwashed tongue - holey scratch, plus here - a monster, walk past, moan, tourniquet, booze, fornication, sucks Rima. It’s quite easy to change money for years, the month of May, it’s winter in the soul and it will always be like this, a wonderful land, under the skin with signs we are - Peace be upon us! There is smoke in your chest, a vulture in your hand, bitch soul - sing!

Not here, not there, there is no life, you know it yourself,
It hurts, but it only strengthens what God left us.
To yours - salam, don’t believe in the tears in the pit, even though they hurt for a long time, even though your heart is in half

There is no class or buzz in the pit, but you know it yourself, a friend here is sad about the “green madam”, people are wearing temporary fashion here, I am wearing the token of a stupidly lost year. Pain, noise at the bottom, the choice is often the same, you can get to the top by head, but the pit is choking, sweat is expelled, I didn’t climb here myself, give me bandages. Tell me how are you? tell me what freedom is? How can I find it? What I find all the time is not right, yes, but at the top there - it will go, nothing, they will live. They smile looking down, but only for us....

Not here, not there, there is no life, you know it yourself,
It hurts, but it only strengthens what God left us.
To yours - salam, don’t believe in the tears in the pit, even though they hurt for a long time, even though your heart is in half