Off-road, gravel, again the rains will peel off many times
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Serpentarium city, past the gray arches and the bar, where the sign "Staropramen"
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I wander to nowhere somewhere at 6 in the morning
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But no matter where the wind blows
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My cold land is more precious to me a hundred times
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Like a hundred carats in an ice setting
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Gray sleeping block like a gambling court
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My unhurried step here will be quieter even than
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A homeless cat through the old courtyard near nine-story buildings darkening at night
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Where the world of plastic won, the golden domes on the roof did not save
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"Everything is going according to plan" - Yegor reasoned
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“Everything goes in a circle,” Misha corrects
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So we erase [?] the slopes of Fuji, awareness burned like white phosphorus
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And the bitter bread of discussions did not climb into the throat
|
"Hey, listen, what the fuck am I a philosopher to you?"
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Who is to blame and what to do we do not know. |
Probably did not come out wisely
|
Wanted to burn through their youth like those funny junkies in orange books
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From extreme to extreme, from end to end
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The hot blood freezes, which hit the head like a Kyokushin master (Kyokushin)
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Recognizing that we don't give a fuck about the agony of this era we will see in the final
|
How did the things we played so seriously turn into ashes
|
An era is dead and fuck it, an era is dead and fuck it
|
An era is dead and fuck it, an era is dead and fuck it
|
An era is dead and fuck it, an era is dead and fuck it
|
An era is dead and fuck it, an era is dead and fuck it
|
Thanks to progress, I watched in HD
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How leaders fell from their pedestals
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We'll all be great soon, hey, wait another 70 years
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Let go old man, in vain you hiss like a snake
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After all, your era died itself with what, and compare it?
|
Only with earth
|
After all, as before there will no longer be
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But not everyone is ready to accept it normally.
|
We again did not fit into the market
|
The last bitcoin will be mined without us
|
It will become humus that people shaved
|
Another already and rushing to change
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Children's idols on gravestones crawled into a dump of obsolete memes
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I find a component of surreal irony, blacker than hanged tongues
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Watching it become anachronistic
|
These ahuevshi bronzed
|
So there is no need for these prayers to the Almighty
|
"God, give me back my spring time"
|
Extra sentiments change here only external elements
|
So it's all an endless trip
|
Between Petushki and white stone
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Looped mp3, eternal winter in solitary confinement
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Wake me up when it's over to let me know that an era has died
|
I wave my hand, not attaching importance, with a gesture, as if telling me to fuck
|
An era is dead and fuck it, an era is dead and fuck it
|
An era is dead and fuck it, an era is dead and fuck it
|
An era is dead and fuck it, an era is dead and fuck it
|
An era is dead and fuck it, an era is dead and fuck it |