Putana, you are frightened by urban brutality,
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Volcanoes are beating under jackets.
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It's stupid to go on tour with wolves,
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Don't take the trigger, Celestial fool.
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On the periphery of the brain is a quiet island,
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Encrypted like Cosa Nostra and tough.
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This is the monster's hideout and near
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The ever-burning bonfire lies in a heap of bones.
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And the totems will not save you at a late hour,
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In the salty sea is your sweet blood, dung beetle.
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I want your shabby king to fit into a muzzle,
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See the shadows under the moon? |
Your sentence is in them.
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Look for someone in the throat * uk in the form,
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If you want to visit this Lukomorye.
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Time is a fly swatter, so we are satisfied
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To win, it is not enough to be agile.
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Everywhere battles, wars, for one garbage dump,
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But the forces of space are behind us, we are calm.
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We are calm.
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We are calm.
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I am for refusal, if there is only one choice,
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And a fake halo will not adorn their make-up for assholes.
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The sound of broken shop windows and steam on the exhale,
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Headlights of artiodactyls whose blood is drunk, so it is accepted by someone.
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Throw away everything that did not give a reason for the conclusion,
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Viva la revolution and viva la vida without cyborgs.
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It's that voice from within that guides me
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And let the clothes of the goblins make their mouths stink.
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I don't need to be related to you
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For all the assholes, the forces of the Universe will allocate *barrel into their mouths.
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Days fly like fast flow, a moment - and I pulled out
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Of their ordinary games, this world where religion is different.
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Go back, wiping the taste of freedom with your sleeve,
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Your plan *uy worked, you can't run mods here.
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The arrows were ticking, the Greats were digging out
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Meaning from fragments of a quiet life that rotted behind the doors.
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League of holes, a fake guide to the yards and
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You are either above their rules or just as drooping and weak.
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And if they yell what to do, then I am for refusal.
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Ashes 2 ashes, dust 2 dust,
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Heads with holes, mines, pseudo psychos, halos,
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Thoughts that cannot be caught, fictional myths,
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And in the fog over the quiet days exits
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The titans will find out, whose paths were not generally accepted.
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Heads with holes, mines, pseudo psychos, halos,
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Thoughts that cannot be caught, fictional myths,
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And in the fog over the quiet days exits
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The titans will find out, whose paths were not generally accepted.
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I hear music and see bonfires in the sky,
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All street cats keep their tails gunned!
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Faya, everything is great, but what a rustle,
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The flock, in disgrace, are again chewing on the conductor's shit.
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In fashion are those shows where everything is super real, *uki and palm trees,
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But the twilight of the sleeping areas piss them in * the ballroom.
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Give me time world to uncover mysteries
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And if everything around is outback, then I am a street diver.
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Street diver.
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Street diver. |