| Who am i
|
| Who am i
|
| A slave at the system in a plate
|
| Morpheus, I want both pills
|
| Who am i
|
| Who am i
|
| Spine sprouting into the mattress
|
| How do you like it, Elon Musk
|
| Coffee with foam at the mouth
|
| Slowly hobble to the fucking station, A
|
| Crouching down the road from stomach cramps
|
| I dance on cockroaches in my head like a winemaker
|
| All this. |
| Little rave. |
| Puppets
|
| One-two
|
| Certificate, diploma and obituary, I finished everything perfectly
|
| What are you attached to, uncle puppeteer
|
| Life puts experiments, and I was an unsuccessful model
|
| So they will write in the headlines, Roskomnadzor made
|
| A prophetic dream in which I died in a dream
|
| In my own tattered skin
|
| A prophetic dream in which I died in a dream
|
| Remember me dear
|
| With a scratched fucker
|
| From the rabbit hole on the escalator
|
| Feeling anxious in the back
|
| I look at a dog eating up vomit
|
| And without asking him who I am and why I am
|
| In the belly of my rooming house I march
|
| Top - top
|
| And from the head of cockroaches eradicating
|
| Wait for the puppeteer to wrap his neck with thread
|
| It's all a little rave, puppets
|
| Certificate, diploma and obituary, I finished everything perfectly
|
| What are you attached to, uncle puppeteer
|
| Life puts experiments, and I was an unsuccessful model
|
| So they will write in the headlines, Roskomnadzor made
|
| A prophetic dream in which I died in a dream
|
| In my own tattered skin
|
| A prophetic dream in which I died in a dream
|
| Remember me dear |