In this fucking world, music is what saves from death
|
The heart can feel what the eyes can't see
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Every day a new scar on the body
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A little more - and we'll put on a wooden tailcoat
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Around friends, but you can not trust them,
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Everyone, in fact, is an enemy here, in fact
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No one is safe from falling, down to the concrete
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Fatum always takes the current back if there was a fast inflow
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Money carries oxygen through the veins, anatomy is powerless there
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And we choose from a lot of roads the one that always infuriated
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Big city - big crematorium, there is enough space for everyone
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Life shoots at you like a target, in reality, but you are wounded in a dream
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Gray granite - urban rainbow, all your morality once - and removed
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Conscience is clear only at first glance, but in reality there is a pile of dirt
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We all dreamed of something else, but buried our desires
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Time marinates us in blood and tears, eating us raw
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Our destinies are a fuse, the result is determined, known
|
So go ahead and with a song
|
The devil is playing with us
|
The stakes are on the verge
|
And the earth floats under your feet
|
God is busy with others
|
Rules imposed
|
And we dutifully kill ourselves
|
The devil is playing with us
|
The stakes are on the verge
|
And the earth floats under your feet
|
God is busy with others
|
Rules imposed
|
And we dutifully kill ourselves
|
Welcome to the real world, yopta, sim-salabim
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He pretended to spare you, but then quietly finished off
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Nadezhda won't inject morphine, she can't do without it herself
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The hopelessness of even the most living will turn without emotions into the dead
|
Time to collect stones, the boomerang of karma flies back to you
|
Unquestioning obedience to chance, traces of vertigo in the eyes
|
Fucking rules of the fucking game
|
Neither Alaska nor Crimea will fix fucking here
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It's a fucking sabbath, not a formal reception
|
Look around and you will see dances, bonfires
|
I'm in a strange monastery with my charter,
|
It was fucked up, but it became galimo
|
Nothing new, naturally.
|
Troubles on others have always brought down a herd
|
Castaneda was right, it's all Journey to Ixtlan
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On the path of a warrior, only suffering can serve as a quick consolation.
|
E! |
This is my cross, but I would have known in advance - I would not have climbed here
|
Someone planned all this extremely successful revenge a long time ago.
|
Our destinies are a fuse, the result is determined, known
|
So go ahead and with a song
|
The devil is playing with us
|
The stakes are on the verge
|
And the earth floats under your feet
|
God is busy with others
|
Rules imposed
|
And we dutifully kill ourselves
|
The devil is playing with us
|
The stakes are on the verge
|
And the earth floats under your feet
|
God is busy with others
|
Rules imposed
|
And we dutifully kill ourselves
|
The devil is playing with us
|
The stakes are on the verge
|
And the earth floats under your feet
|
God is busy with others
|
Rules imposed
|
And we dutifully kill ourselves
|
The devil is playing with us
|
The stakes are on the verge
|
And the earth floats under your feet
|
God is busy with others
|
Rules imposed
|
And we dutifully kill ourselves |