Another six months ago
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I would be mixed with the general mass
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Now I'm a welcome guest
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They call a serf for every holiday
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Show your tongue
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Say names on camera
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Their whole black vibe got my Adam's apple
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I do not feel moisture - the heat of Cameroon
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And those who in dreams then balabolil
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That the light will not pierce my callous soul
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Today they say to my face mutually
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“I believe in talent, you are a bastard, we will help”
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Union of Republics, sector prize
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Collects a bag by thread
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I want to be a nettle for them
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People forgot about the personality variety
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Made from cult food
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Houses were built from flats
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Everyone sits and pizdit in it
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Like in a children's house of little dolls
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There are no forks, there is carbonara
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No cups to drink cappuccino
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There is no shame in calling everyone a brother
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Where is the only mobile phone
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Hinted how you can kill a syllable
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In an instant, tunes poured under the barrel
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Labor is growing like an unbearable giant
|
Unfamiliar style and thirst for manners
|
Hinted how you can kill a syllable
|
In an instant, tunes poured under the barrel
|
Labor is growing like an unbearable giant
|
Unfamiliar style and thirst for manners
|
The first guy in the village became the first in the policy
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Between us Minsk City is an intermediary
|
Horseshoes lay under the crosses
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We walk into tomorrow, we walk cheerfully
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Cut into straps, oh
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Drunk with envy, oh
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After all, they want war so much, oh
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But I forgot the path there
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Their fangs are shining
|
Enemies hanging flaps
|
Elbow-deep in blood
|
But I forgot the path there
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Played enough click-clack, bang-bang
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Sitting hide and seek
|
Inadvertently began to notice in everyone he met
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Your troubles
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Naive behind the vertebra
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And, at the same time, it costs a penny
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All their black vibe behind my Adam's apple
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Without pity, hunger consumed everyone
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Like in a square barn
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In the middle of a field of locusts
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We fall asleep in mass graves
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We fall asleep and are silent
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For your own, you are a pleasant trifle
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Days pass carefree
|
We got out, but remained as before
|
You are out of your fucking mind
|
Hinted how you can kill a syllable
|
In an instant, tunes poured under the barrel
|
Labor is growing like an unbearable giant
|
Unfamiliar style and thirst for manners
|
Hinted how you can kill a syllable
|
In an instant, tunes poured under the barrel
|
Labor is growing like an unbearable giant
|
Unfamiliar style and thirst for manners
|
The first guy in the village became the first in the policy
|
Between us Minsk City is an intermediary
|
Horseshoes lay under the crosses
|
We walk into tomorrow, we walk cheerfully |