Putting on a windbreaker, I dive into the city, in which the skin is cold from the past
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In which people go crazy and balconies from the gray sky and gray courtyard wells
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In one of which, in a two-room musty, filled with the smells of a sad
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fatigue hut
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A baby is crying, in a circle of communal hell, an ashtray is filled with filters with
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red lipstick
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And something scarlet filled the evening. |
The wind peeped at them with a careless look
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Breaking through under the windows, waving the papers around her and her curls, hid the dark
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and wet
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Cursed eyes. |
Stuck in a vase. |
Old past, it's hard for her to throw away in general
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And so not only with flowers, but you are not a saint. |
Close his eyes, outside the window
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dawn.
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This is how much love this community needs, this is how much to spend on it
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Audio plays, in the hut mate on the mate, you take turns sending each other by mother
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And maybe enough of this hysteria. |
You can see how crazy you are with your esotericism
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You're waiting for the dark to be replaced by white. |
Well, what does he drink. |
Yes, he drinks but does
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But apparently to share with someone. |
Not that schematic. |
To divide by one is stupidity, how to divide by
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zero
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The gap between you has long been. |
You followed the wrong tarot cards, this is rock
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This is a rhombus, cube, fire, sound. |
On one on two. |
The knock of two fittings
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The news tore apart society with a woman's hand, and closing your eyes you managed to
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travel.
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Battered feeling strength requests made of steel tired and began to corrode
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in places
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Not your concert, and the bridge is not yours, someone else's lake and not your floor, and everything that was was gone
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acquired
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What motives led you then, if it is known that the dividend is greater than the divisor
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Throwing in about the powder that's in your head. |
The case was sewn and you can’t hide it in a bag.
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Depriving a friend of us and a child of a father, the creator of rap will always look back
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Thursday's head is rolling, spewing words turning into quotes. The citadel has fallen,
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You will no longer see the vaults of the mechanical plant, You will not shout the trembling of the third arena without
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reasons
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I always shook your hand, what a pity now my friend is gone and everything is fucked up.
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At concerts, hands in the air like a Nazi fascist, I hug my brother, dedicating 2 to 16 to you
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As a result, your lines survived the reader, we will meet soon, we won’t even have time to get bored
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No knife will divide you, and no wife will be able to take you from us if the heart
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pampered (from Nizhyn)
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And we are still the same, everything is the same. |
Dullness, cold and drink, although there is no thirst.
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This world seems to have grown cold, no more magic is happening in troubled waters
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The dog disappeared, didn’t buy food for the cat, the man and the cloud look out the open windows
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And often, when the windows on the streets go out, a holiday will be blown away on the other side of the street.
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And a lonely rapper smokes a dose of weed and there's no better way to fly without refueling. |