"Personality". |
Sounds proud.
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But there are so many reasons to laugh at her
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And the one who is well-read and the one that is a cretin
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Personality is a fucking rank
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Somewhere I didn't shake my hand. |
Somewhere stupidly ran
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Somewhere he beat, where he held himself sparingly in his hands
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Codes of honor, statutes, do not count them,
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But I'm still a person and I'm sorry for my actions
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And even music from letters to air backing
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Included in my concept of the art of living
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A fucking freedom riot, as Everhart bequeathed
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I know the difference between praying and folding hands
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The world is not welcoming, like a post-apocalypse
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Not in sects, but sooner or later we will all repent
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I'm not talking about God, but anyone is sinful
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And anyone was burned, because he is alive
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Yo-my. |
And when the rapper pours washes
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And when he sings that "behind the back of the district"
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In any case, a doorway is visible in the background -
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After all, they will find a couple of joints behind this "yo yo yo"
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Watched the world silently, like a wolf
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Uprooted what writhed and writhed
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Learned their world, but not the same
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That I did not find myself in them, seeing so many methods
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The ice is melting between us, they say
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And there was coal between us, but the fires are burning
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Between us the forces of an irresistible feeling
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We love in a way that they consider blasphemy
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And while hours of work rotted between them
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There were miles between us, airports
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Between us cities and countries, oceans and seas
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Between us somewhere aliens speak
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Interrupting them, great minds neigh
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And the insects wondered if we were great
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Here, straying after Plato, you go around after Pluto
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And stagger there like you were secretly bewitched
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Between us the wreckage of spaceships
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Between us is the dust of metaphysical parallels
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We don't know why, but we want so much in vain
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Insolently call this space - creativity
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Outro:
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I combed so many dark forests, I became more vigilant
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People promised that someday it would all end
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Confusing cleanly with those who writhe
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Before, give me one thing that leads to honors
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Az, beeches, lead. |
My goal is not an envelope
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I wrote and I write. |
They don't know me without troubles
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Lighted up, stumbled, bent, hung around
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Forgot everything, lived. |
And I left them a trail |