| Oh this knock, the knock of a spoon on an empty bottom
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| Not even a knock, but a scrape along the bottom
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| Glasses of yogurt, jars of sour cream
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| Saucers of honey or cups of tea with jam
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| You catch all the rags of berries, all the grains
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| Even tea leaves, because when they run out
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| Will have to cross the border
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| Get up and go somewhere
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| And so already late for 45 minutes
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| Sometimes there's nowhere to go
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| Another cup of tea with jam
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| Yogurt, sour cream - it will not be good
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| Life is hard to make
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| In such a simple game
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| There are options to go somewhere, to go
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| Jerk off or stand in line
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| Breaking the waves, swinging the oar
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| The ocean is so big that in it
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| The plane will be lost without residue
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| And no one will lift these people from the bottom
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| There will be no one to track the last minutes of their lives
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| Here, he was a dot on the radar, and then disappeared
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| The ocean is still there, its foam scalds the ships,
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| And in the cabins fingers tremble, dry throats
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| Waiting for their shovels of salt
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| A hangover can only be quenched with sea water
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| The abrasion will pass if you step on it with the sole
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| And if carefully, by a teaspoon
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| Collect this jam from the walls,
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| And then lick the bottom without looking out the window
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| Everything is under control, everything is under control
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| The meters are working
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| Clicked the round button a thousand times
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| In the camera app
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| It's best to die when you
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| Driving, jerking off or standing in line
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| It means to die with a weapon in hand
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| Did you like the lyrics?
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| Write in the comments!
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