6. Unknown performer - Под Фонарями
текст песни

Songs of night streets
lead not to the romance of the seas
explains how the dog promises
like cats hiss on a shadow
you put on the windbreaker, go out
From now on and listen to, the whole motive of melodies
There will be a clear day, they are silent
there are no gaze, even soon the night will be
And you will go crazy with the nonsense
All areas are blown up
Why do we need the Irony Scenario
We would have to get a lady. put it on a bunk
calmly, only the dead will find peace
Fans are strewn with ashes
Smoke cigarettes flies by
Internet fans
who have nothing but a cipher
We launch rockets into stars - break the slate
From laws, select a bold font there
we ourselves set the sheriffs of night streets with a font
huli they are spinning here
We just smoke here, choose a satellite bitch

I saw a lot and know a lot? Well, between us.
Not many are in the know where the stone is cut down.
Not everyone knows the routes, the basements where the water.
I have not come down, I just believe in miracles.
Someone a notebook is a piece of life,
And we are very soon in the north, but so far to the east.
Roads without bridges, skeletons of houses without foundations.
You do not put our arguments on the table without reason.
We ourselves are not a hundred and more than once we have already seen everything.
We will not surprise us with the basement of a switch, a reality of dreams.
A layer of insanity and anti -moraism, but
Know, not everyone is given to create, then what he dreams about.
Yesterday we were someone, and today where are we?
All express skepticism to the vessels of the system.
Who is she sleeping with? If he sleeps, on decidation in general.
You saw the shield and in thought you will climb on the walls.
Dungeons covered with words under the locks clogged.
Thoughts are impregnated with pairs of lies to poisonous.
Under the guise of vitamins of feelings are different species,
Without licenses and discounts, change of visual skin.
And let him throw us even deeper, no need
Without the need to hide what came out!
Call to weapons. We have Killer in the service.
Let us not be visible, but we have been by ear for a long time.

Without poetry, we are just mediocre
We wander around the neighborhood, as if without a house
Who drowns in smoke, who climbed here to the bottom
Evil fisherman pulls the fishing line, and on the sand
They are dragged, and we
Under the lanterns from the outskirts we loop
in your mind
Attention demanding voices
These minutes will flow into the hours and days
Whatever you say
Open, son
Behind the windows are moving bass pops
Do not ask Basanov, here we grew up
Together with us, our inequipped style
Found in the backyard of art
and there was not a second for a second
In the meager minds only thrown wasteland
there the graves of talents are buried and the haze shakes
Like soup, I'll ask for one thing

translate the gallows spindle and remove it from the face
the larvae of the scoundrel, permeating Olsk - peace to you
The world to your yards and houses
One street under the lanterns and the heaven of winter
They are not full of bread, food for the mind
even different voices here in one tone affect
From Russia from the candle-west muddy is dirty
slide into one track

Memory spaces justify sleep and stone
one call is sometimes locked up by everything
But you are not alone if with the ears with us
Hap and love under lanterns warm the soul