| The scarlet sun is at its zenith, the alarm clock is ringing - respawn.
|
| On the soul is not Peter, not Pripyat, not Ghost town.
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| Smoke thickens in the sky from smoking factories -
|
| And here, as usual, there are two troubles - trends and bots.
|
| Somewhere, drones are being shot down by enemies, trains are going downhill.
|
| He got up on the wrong foot; |
| migraines, neurosis and psychosis.
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| Exchange rates change, channels and relatives lie -
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| I don't care much
|
| There is a dubak on the street, decay and darkness in the heart;
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| On the Internet, as always, someone is wrong, but I don't care!
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| There is a dubak on the street, rather it would be spring!
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| What do I care about your catastrophes and terrorist attacks, I would not know about them!
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| Dubak street, I want green tea -
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| For someone to cover my body with a fucking blanket -
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| After all, there is a dubak on the street! |
| More like spring!
|
| What do I care about your catastrophes and terrorist attacks,
|
| I would not know about them; |
| oak on the street!
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| We are just ice under the major's feet;
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| We're just "snow" on the pimp's cross.
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| Steam from the prosecutor's mouth; |
| Yes, it will warm up soon.
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| The sun that does not see the city itself lives here, like Morlock.
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| And only blood, like water in a battery, freezes;
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| And we wander here in the white wild desert.
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| We carry our sins like shrines,
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| To put crosses to them in the cache of the world quagmire.
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| Two sock to sock, sweater to sweater and scarf;
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| He wrapped his neck like a boa constrictor, tightly clamping his nose and mouth.
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| Winter will one day pass like a miracle, spring will come -
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| Only along the way without us.
|
| There is a dubak on the street, decay and darkness in the heart;
|
| On the Internet, as always, someone is wrong, but I don't care!
|
| There is a dubak on the street, rather it would be spring!
|
| What do I care about your catastrophes and terrorist attacks, I would not know about them!
|
| Dubak street, I want green tea -
|
| For someone to cover my body with a fucking blanket -
|
| After all, there is a dubak on the street! |
| More like spring!
|
| What do I care about your catastrophes and terrorist attacks,
|
| I would not know about them; |
| on the street oak tree! |