| We are looking for a way home
|
| Searching and looking for a way home
|
| Looking for a way home
|
| Searching and looking for the way to the house
|
| Looking for a way home
|
| Searching and looking for a way to home
|
| Looking for a way home
|
| Searching and looking for a way home
|
| Firmament starry stencil
|
| In the atmosphere it would be malicious not to burn out
|
| That aseptolin wild mumble
|
| Just Mandalorian is my dialect
|
| And you thought you'd be like Star-Lord
|
| And you thought you'd be like Boba Fett
|
| Yes, but infinity is not the limit
|
| And you carry a hair dryer to the grave without pale
|
| The freshest air, already sickening
|
| Lost in a haystack and can't find it
|
| To your inner Kyshtym the right path
|
| As if the humanoid Alyoshenka
|
| Aliens in kokoshniks will meet me
|
| With a loaf and salt, already trembling in the hands
|
| And they say: "Happy birthday, bro
|
| Treat your head with plantain "
|
| Let fate throw out a trick
|
| Dine will require tar
|
| A dagger plunges into the back up to the hilt
|
| Having made a cog at a cotton factory, let
|
| May the Motherland affectionately
|
| On the way, he will collect a string bag for me
|
| Spreading me on the heating main
|
| Snow angel drunk on the board
|
| And we're looking for a way home
|
| Searching and looking for a way home
|
| Huge nostrils - wormholes
|
| Sneaking through the air gallon after gallon
|
| We are looking for a way home
|
| Searching and looking for a way home
|
| You thought to go to your home planet
|
| But again returned to the house of cardboard
|
| Looking for a way home
|
| Searching and looking for a way home
|
| Looking for a way home
|
| Searching and looking for a way home
|
| Looking for a way home
|
| Searching and looking for a way home
|
| Looking for a way home
|
| Searching and looking for a way home
|
| After a hundred years of wandering, I
|
| I'm still at zero
|
| No matter how my brain boils
|
| I'm still at zero
|
| Will find me in the blue haze
|
| Grown-up son
|
| And he will say: “Dad, what kind of aliens, damn it? |
| You're drunk, let's go home"
|
| Looking for a way home
|
| Searching and looking for a way home
|
| Looking for a way home
|
| Searching and looking for a way home
|
| Looking for a way home
|
| Searching and looking for a way home
|
| Looking for a way home
|
| Searching and looking for a way home
|
| The freshest air, already sickening
|
| Lost in a haystack and can't find it
|
| To your inner Kyshtym the right path
|
| As if the humanoid Alyoshenka
|
| Aliens in kokoshniks will meet me
|
| With a loaf and salt, already trembling in the hands
|
| And say "Happy birthday, bro
|
| Treat your head with plantain "
|
| Would fly off on parsecs
|
| Would fly away, yes for good
|
| Space beckons the young
|
| And three decades later
|
| Fly away like the first snow
|
| Fly away to be empty
|
| You spend the night completely flying away
|
| In the forest belt
|
| (“There’s no one, who the fuck knows why it all stopped.
|
| Like an alien on his flying saucer.
|
| Inopr ... and a native of Shire ... How is it? ..
|
| Iproshelenets ... How is it? .. Not ... Inoshapotyani") |