| Grace will not come down to people
|
| Suffer or give a damn, it became clearer to me
|
| That grace will hardly come down to people
|
| Suffer or I don't give a damn
|
| Myths that people are the kings of nature
|
| Invented from inferiority complexes and fashion
|
| We get everywhere we want
|
| We are not looking for simple ways, we go, we run, we fly
|
| And we plunge into suspended animation
|
| For centuries without any harm to themselves
|
| And you have no idea, theorists, practitioners
|
| Play better tic-tac-toe, collect candy wrappers
|
| You are looking for something that a long time ago
|
| Found, patented and working
|
| Namely, the structure of society and the meaning of existence
|
| But here you are far, far from the truth of knowledge
|
| Close to the sun
|
| Do you dream of flying
|
| We can only laugh
|
| One cannot expect a single goal from different species
|
| Classes, types, loonies
|
| All living beings
|
| There are legends about our sense organs on earth
|
| Here are the best agents, philosophers, intellectuals
|
| The idea of superiority gnaws at mankind
|
| Many do not know, their trump card still does not help
|
| I saw their talent, their pride and fear |
| Will is the cure for wrinkles on the skin
|
| Carefully! |
| I direct my gaze
|
| Through the soul and flesh of everyone, through hundreds of barriers
|
| Highlighting the essence of the important
|
| Even an arrogant mask will show me paper heroism
|
| Choose for yourself, or the truth through infant lips
|
| Or wisdom behind gray heads
|
| Standard painting in a window frame
|
| The world with blind eyes
|
| Around debauchery, apparatus, power, dirt
|
| Takes sadness, gnaws
|
| Why shed blood?
|
| The pasture was a shooting range, it became a cemetery
|
| Made a laughing stock. |
| Song about the mold of bald heads
|
| A story about conscience. |
| A play with a question about the code of honor
|
| Truth is not in vogue, offended and seeing nothing
|
| Looks like we're going to die.
|
| We find - we do not store
|
| We lose - we blame ourselves
|
| crying
|
| Even the executioners wet their handkerchiefs
|
| They can't do otherwise
|
| Fear of temptation
|
| After horror
|
| That's so stupid
|
| The measure of the world is lost
|
| Idols forgot faith in taverns
|
| Crash, from the screens we are robbed live
|
| Be cultured, spit in the urns
|
| How are the roots
|
| Less mob
|
| Fools, with such a level you will not reap laurels
|
| Fortune will soon smile at Saturn, people are unlikely |
| Suffer or give a damn, it became clearer to me
|
| That grace will hardly come down to people
|
| Suffer or give a damn, it became clearer to me
|
| That grace will hardly come down to people
|
| Suffer or give a damn, it became clearer to me
|
| That grace will hardly come down to people
|
| To all star officers, department heads
|
| We have an emergency, losses, reconnaissance patrol fired
|
| All in meeting mode, attention
|
| Stop program, battle group wait for target indication
|
| Further.
|
| The essence of the incident is the loss of a scout on a mission
|
| Direct hit
|
| To the body
|
| The attack of Russian MIGs is the reason
|
| And as a result of a fall, and as a result of an accident
|
| And as a result, what? |
| Disruption of the operation
|
| You understand, sheep, the dregs of a star nation
|
| What does the threat of experiment mean
|
| Debriefing will be later, let's move on to another moment
|
| Hey, you sons of a star bitch! |
| Hello!
|
| It's me, science control department. |
| Welcome!
|
| The question is simple, it sounds: what the fuck
|
| They made a bullet out of shit
|
| Hey, engineers, fucking geniuses, where are you?
|
| Who called this trash the king of the atmosphere?
|
| Delta function, maneuver protection principle
|
| But I'll give you, bitch, out of principle, I'll give in the ribs |
| It's simple, our A was answered by B
|
| Hungry Russian designer in a scruffy design bureau
|
| Increased the order of the tracking system of the radar
|
| By increasing the range of capture plus the power of impact
|
| M01-9M1 his name
|
| M01-9M1 in squadrons
|
| Already on the wings, tested, ready to fight
|
| Now we will be friends in the sky on equal terms with shooting
|
| Here you are, cosipores, circles on the field
|
| Finished, damn it, they didn’t want salt in the ass
|
| They're tearing assholes for cereals
|
| Order to pilots to reduce flights
|
| Be ready to attack
|
| So, department of earthly religions, create an idol for them
|
| Such that they sit still, they want peace
|
| Give faith, give money, give bread, harvest
|
| And then, you see, they will put experiments on us
|
| It's about those times.
|
| When our appearance was only on canvases
|
| All that was once reflected in the eyes
|
| Dreamed in their dreams, now turned to dust
|
| Leave it to earthly creatures? |
| Harlem?
|
| Give the couple a barrel as a gift
|
| Even the oldest
|
| Forgot about the car
|
| Give them a flame
|
| beyond dreams
|
| I heard the smell, they burned themselves
|
| It's strange, in different countries the same drama
|
| They boil poison in a thousand kilos |
| Thousands of years of ideals, rituals
|
| A truce is only under the covers
|
| Where are you!
|
| Okay, late, who knew, he knew for sure
|
| Who does not love the light, he lives at night
|
| Grace will not come down to people
|
| Suffer or give a damn, it became clearer to me
|
| That grace will hardly come down to people
|
| To suffer or not to care, it became clearer to me
|
| That grace will hardly come down to people
|
| Suffer or give a damn, it became clearer to me
|
| That grace will hardly come down to people
|
| To suffer or not to care, it became clearer to me
|
| That grace will hardly come down to people
|
| To suffer or not to care, it became clearer to me
|
| That grace will hardly come down to people
|
| To suffer or not to care, it became clearer to me
|
| That grace will hardly come down to people
|
| Suffer or I don't give a damn
|
| Blange is here. |
| Mook, Small
|
| Caste. |
| Khamil.
|
| On this track.
|
| Shym, Vladi.
|
| Turn it off. |