Noise in the head, as if the shower is turned on
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Only on the ground should crawl
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I am so-so husband, so-so son
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So-so brother and friend, don't piss
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You are better than me, you deserve more
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Don't change yourself, it's the pain of steps
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Bedbugs lurk, lice behind the plinth
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I'm an idiot who created his art himself
|
Be baptized in Cherepovets
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And after the triumph, at the very end
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Rest somewhere in Venice
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And even in deep dementia
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Don't make such nonsense
|
These are very bad lyrics.
|
I am a poet, only if for shkolota
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For lovers of booze and drugs
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I'm a redneck, gopnik, drunk, junkie
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Emelya on the stove, Ivan the Fool
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I am a slave to the archetype, stupid Russian
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I'm stupidly disgusted by your party
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Yes, we are all just dust here.
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Count and weigh, the day is like a ghoul
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He sucks my serotonin
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This is my blackthrope, this is my springboard
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To the sky or underground, or...
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Yes, who would have known, would have said something
|
So that I don't suffer here
|
Are you my destiny or a fellow traveler
|
And what have we inherited?
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Fatigue only yes old age
|
And shake your head to the beat
|
Curved in an arc, drink current
|
The beat shakes my head, my head
|
I pray before the faded icon of the Lord
|
And the beat shakes, shakes its head, my head
|
I pray before the faded icon of the Lord
|
And the beat shakes, shakes its head, my head
|
I pray before the faded icon of the Lord
|
And the beat shakes, shakes its head, my head
|
I pray before the faded icon of the Lord
|
So and so this beat will knock the dust out of your head
|
Yes, as a bull winds guts on its hooves
|
Look: they are smoking like dinner
|
Glide like snakes through sweaty fingers
|
Divination by my entrails
|
When you flutter on the alder
|
And in this verse of broken tracheas
|
I'm a mohair scarf on my father's plow
|
Here everyone shouts: “I will crucify you!
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You chose your fate to entertain the crowd!"
|
Under my robe there are solid scars
|
But for them a buffoon, a jester, a cap, bells
|
That was the age of the wolfhound, fuck!
|
This wolf age is a fact
|
He will come in that hour like a Samaritan
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To live instead of us - we ourselves do not pull
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Yes, I'm stupid, and through my weakness
|
I sing a pancreatic bad song
|
But on the frequency that only hear
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Those who remember why Kibalchish died there
|
I would sing in Hebrew (hey-yo, hey-yo)
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If only you don't like
|
Once you come, then look (hey-yo, hey-yo)
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How my hara-kiri hits my eyes
|
Pus in the eyes, blood in the eyes
|
Bile in the eyes - do not bother me, I myself
|
Don't feel sorry for me, no offense here
|
'Cause shit don't sink, stone don't burn
|
I beg you very much
|
If you want to help me
|
That quietly to the beat of the bass
|
Pray to heaven for me
|
The beat shakes my head, my head
|
I pray before the faded icon of the Lord
|
And the beat shakes, shakes its head, my head
|
I pray before the faded icon of the Lord
|
And the beat shakes, shakes its head, my head
|
I pray before the faded icon of the Lord
|
And the beat shakes, shakes its head, my head
|
I pray before the faded icon of the Lord
|
And the beat shabit, shabit, sha-
|
The beat shabit staggers (hey-yo, hey-yo)
|
And the beat shabit, shabit, sha-
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Beat shabit, stagger (hey-yo, hey-yo)
|
And the beat shabit, shabit, sha-
|
Beat shabit, stagger (hey-yo, hey-yo)
|
Avva-a-avva-a-avva, the beat shakes its head
|
dog, i
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Bit shabit, shabit, shabit, shabit, sha- |