| The worms of hate make holes
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| In the heart muscle, like in Dutch cheese
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| Deeper and deeper penetrating
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| The black flame of madness kindling
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| The worms of hate make holes
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| In the heart muscle, like in Dutch cheese
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| Deeper and deeper penetrating
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| The black flame of madness kindling
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| I'm in my mouth, again the agenda
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| In paradise, so to speak, a corner trip
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| Third invitation to take a break from relatives
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| Soon they will set up nets without days off
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| Hands behind the back, face in the dirt
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| Down Like Scum Prize - Two-Year Cruise
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| First stop, parking, enlistment office
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| Medical examination, check, building in a row
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| Housewarming in the barracks, the herd in the stall
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| Two finished years as a reward. |
| Is that all?!
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| No, it's better to plow days and nights
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| Give mountains there, but at least live here on trifles
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| Everything is not so bad, you can fix it
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| Tear the skin, rake, but the path is false
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| Gave in the face, answered rudely - it's hard to turn
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| Having knocked down the mouth, he went to the sinking ship
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| Then the bastards opened a case in the department
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| They didn’t want to listen, they removed the beatings from the body
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| One hundred and eleventh of the Criminal Code - serious bodily
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| pre-trial detention center, stages, zones, cramped barracks
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| Telephone receiver, through cloudy glass |
| Relatives so close and so far
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| It is difficult and easy on the heart. |
| “Hi mom!
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| True, I'd rather be a soldier"
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| The worms of hate make holes
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| In the heart muscle, like in Dutch cheese
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| Deeper and deeper penetrating
|
| The black flame of madness kindling
|
| The worms of hate make holes
|
| In the heart muscle, like in Dutch cheese
|
| Deeper and deeper penetrating
|
| The black flame of madness kindling
|
| There is a day, there comes an hour
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| Chaos takes over everything around us
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| Ghost of war, knife missionary
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| Professor of horror, maestro of robbery
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| Creator of widows, their bitter tear
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| And then it seems that a cripple is worse than a dead man
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| When the mind is lost in fear
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| There are no boundaries in sin, consciousness is in collapse
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| Raised by death are taught to shoot
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| Children at the age of ten, so to speak, quickly
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| Kill, automaton know how the back of your hand
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| Do not tremble, do not piss at the sight of plucked eyes
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| Arms, legs, decapitated acquaintances
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| Fight to the death, mock
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| Above those who pray for peace, cut their throats wider
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| Shoot holes, seek doom
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| On a field shrouded in smoke, listen to the groans
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| Wounded, hungry fed
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| Get cartridge cases, cartridges from torn |
| Bloodied, half dead
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| Only a bullet will stop them, only a bullet
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| Bullet, one bullet in the heart
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| My sleepy gaze is fixed on the hole in the wall
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| There is a trail in the air from a bullet, my neighbor
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| Was once a champion shooter
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| The title came in handy in the war
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| Now he is not young and blind, his mind is destroyed
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| They say he's haunted by dead souls
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| Attacking the ears |
| And in pitch darkness
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| You have to sit and listen to all the endless nonsense
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| The roar subsided, the silence is split by pleading laughter
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| This eternal hero, the era created him so
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| Giving him animal fear
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| Own blood caked on fangs
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| Wild thirst for that sacred vengeance
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| That cut off the whole outside world
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| Created inside a field for war games
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| Leaving the PM, which did not fail the ninth caliber
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| Yes, and faith for him is the trembling of a finger on the trigger
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| Boldly fate disposed of this body
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| Making him a source of serpent's wrath
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| Affordable fodder for the mental storm
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| Tormented mind, no more pain
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| All that's left is electric shock, spasm, psychoorgasm
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| The main thing is blissful chaos, according to the scenario
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| Death is the creature's reward
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| Invertebrate obedience breathes down his back |
| He recognized her steps, fell exhausted, crawled to the door, froze
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| Barrel, temple, empty click, he howled softly! |
Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Черви ненависти, artist - Каста.