The world behind the fence, posters are torn
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The morning city sleeps over the endless expanse
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Paper rubs under a crystal gaze
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We breathe into ourselves the problems of compressed air
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Asphalt rumpled thoughts gives a shade
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Letters are intertwined on brick walls
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This system presses, as it was before
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Sirens sing laws harder and more often
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The faces on the screens are unpleasant and depraved
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More and more people are talking virtually.
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It suddenly became legal what they imprisoned for
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Weak and strong money makes enemies
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Areas are full of sweet aroma of love
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Those who said goodbye to home became the goods
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Noise, (noise) warms up the city breakfast
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From lost people and empty cans
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Above the cities, the logo under the eight is strictly
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Combination one in a million
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Dance of revelation to the roar of engines
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Twists the poles of the magnetic field
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Above the cities, the logo under the eight is strictly
|
Combination one in a million
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Dance of revelation to the roar of engines
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Twisting the poles...
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Fog hangs over the city
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He steals and eats the first rays
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The wind knows about this, but does not want to become extreme
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It is not worth arguing with darkness in the early morning
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The streets are empty, we wrap them in smoke
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Electric wires knock under the rhymes of current
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Billboard smiles look cruel
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Advertisements play the role of city runoff
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Cigarette butts on the asphalt like experiences
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In which there are habits, love and parting
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Power and distance in the hands of the subway
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Home for the homeless in winding tunnels
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In the center there are hotels for next to nothing
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For those who managed to grab big money
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The city saves time and warms up breakfast
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From lost people and empty cans
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Above the cities, the logo under the eight is strictly
|
Combination one in a million
|
Dance of revelation to the roar of engines
|
Twists the poles of the magnetic field
|
Above the cities, the logo under the eight is strictly
|
Combination one in a million
|
Dance of revelation to the roar of engines
|
Twisting the poles...
|
The first buses began their work
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The radio host promises the weather
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We all have a hundred problems in the morning -
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We want or we don't want; |
standing in line
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Sadness, like fog, will be beaten by vanity
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The daytime city keeps repeating: "Don't stop!"
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Pricks us with a needle, this is a race for money
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In the cycle behind things, we became things
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Lighting a flame in ourselves, we see the light
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Otherwise, they become lonely, who became richer
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Thoughts, like tasks, drive into dead ends
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We are faced with a choice: to go or not to go?
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Luck will come to us, and there will be no need to argue with it
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Having deceived the vanity, she will break the problems
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The city will see us, warm up breakfast
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From good music and bright colors
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Above the cities, the logo under the eight is strictly
|
Combination one in a million
|
Dance of revelation to the roar of engines
|
Twists the poles of the magnetic field
|
Above the cities, the logo under the eight is strictly
|
Combination one in a million
|
Dance of revelation to the roar of engines
|
Twisting the poles... |