| Two artists, two friends, one talent
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| Another aspired from childhood, were friends
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| Even on muddy together to kill together
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| One was closed, stupid deeds
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| The second talent brought money, pathos, whores
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| I sat, thought about freedom, wrote texts about the hut
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| Dreams, mom, about lawlessness, they break like in reality
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| Tried to keep up with the Cauldron completely
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| I dreamed that it would come out and they would write a couple of topics together,
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| But I thought why there are no letters, maybe the mail is free
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| Or something else, but did not allow the thought
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| That friendship is forgotten and sold, it's so easy
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| That's so easy bitch, for loot bitch
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| For tiwi bitch, for shit bitch
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| Three years later, Paz came out, raised his eyes to the sky
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| Thank you for giving me freedom and taking the bag went along the road
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| Dreaming that his friends are waiting for him already with booze on the doorstep,
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| But when he arrived in Moscow, he was met by his mother
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| He threw things, Ma I'll go for a walk
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| I'll find out what's what, I'll find the boys
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| I went out to the old square, there is silence
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| Then onto a small bridge, there she too
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| Went to one, another, in the end returned to the house
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| Found a shabby notebook, dialed Kotla, found out what was what
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| And scored a meeting with him in a cafe, on the same evening
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| In a cafe that evening
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| There are different stories, I know
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| This one has seen them, but this one is only dreaming for now,
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| But there is only one truth, it is important
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| Show it to me, I have never seen
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| The boiler arrived in new clothes, on a new wheelbarrow
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| All on show-offs, and Paz in old sweatpants
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| Old jacket, killed sneakers, a la 98th summer
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| Cauldron, I see you have risen, yes bro, I'm sorry,
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| But don't wait to communicate with me anymore
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| I'm a star, and you're a beggar, Paz finished his cigarette
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| He got up and two years later, every hopper in Russia knew him
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| His thoughts were not one-sided, not one-sided,
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| And the Cauldron just drank, the drugs finished off
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| Fucked all the lava that was,
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| And a year later, Paz found out that the Boiler was sticking
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| Yes, and they say, in general, it just became a pi ** rum
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| Just f** rum became
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| There are different stories, I know
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| This one has seen them, but this one is only dreaming for now,
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| But there is only one truth, it is important
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| Show it to me, I have never seen |