Slim:
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I don't know all the answers, like in "What, where, when?"
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Crystal owl does not blind the retina
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While life has not yet chopped into firewood
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And didn't flush it down the toilet like a disposable c**don.
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No matter how stubborn I am, I will not wear "Bosco Sport"
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Matte Cayenne lifts someone up the mountains
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Gathering courage, you can go out the window
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From unrequited love, or just under the dope.
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The pathologist will slowly open your body with a knife
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Thinking you were an idiot
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The earth will absorb blood and sweat,
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How many times someone's faith is nourished by a holy icon.
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I did not measure the crown and did not sit on the throne,
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Death rarely comes in an embrace with sleep.
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Chills all over the body, it's too late to rush about in the cell
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You will not find the truth on the First, like Posner
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And maybe we will be washed away, as Atlantis was washed away.
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With the look of a tiger, I'm a muddy type
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With a nasty smirk, active until other people's assets.
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Do not smoke the ceiling with the mouth of a moron.
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What do we really want? |
Who are we walking under here?
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Like Leshchenko's "Victory Day" - a melody from the records.
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This is the spirit of the times, and even if I am not Pelevin,
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I wrote it myself, hello to Vanya Lenin.
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My evil genius is a genie in a jar
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When someone rubs off topic with their tongue that lamp.
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I read mantras. |
Infiltrating our gang is life-threatening,
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Like in the ranks of the Taliban.
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I once stared into a black mirror
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Life runs like a zebra, throwing its face to the ground.
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It's not a white ghetto, there are bitches on Vertu.
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There is no conscience under expensive fur.
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I once stared into a black mirror
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Life runs like a zebra, throwing its face to the ground.
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It's not a white ghetto, there are bitches on Vertu.
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There is no conscience under expensive fur.
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Don't call me brother, words don't fly back.
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They shit like doves, leaving stains.
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Leave the clearing to the guys, they will grow something there,
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A deadly weed fertilizing with poison.
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I think it's the fucking Truman Show
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You are cheap even in crafts from TSUM
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Yes, I think so, I put my hands on the dome,
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And Google won't tell you when it's cornered.
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Under wet rain, under a Teflon barrel,
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The black alley will not break the strength of the spirit.
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Hang on the phone, and I'll come right now,
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Just don't fall down, there's no trampoline under you.
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Smoked in the morning, stupidly ashes in the urn,
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I look at the moon - salute to all whores.
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Silicone and powder only *but you,
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Because at 20 you're still a fool
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Something is being decided here, not in the corridors of the State Duma
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Not at the post, but in the sauna with expensive dishes
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Democracy is a slut, they let her go around
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Somewhere under the barvikha, in private clubs.
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She sniffed from a tray, from the last century
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With a tailwind, we look into the black mirror.
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I will reveal secrets, like at a school desk
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Sit down or sit down, the main thing is not to fall.
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I once stared into a black mirror
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Life runs like a zebra, throwing its face to the ground.
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It's not a white ghetto, there are bitches on Vertu.
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There is no conscience under expensive fur.
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I once stared into a black mirror
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Life runs like a zebra, throwing its face to the ground.
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It's not a white ghetto, there are bitches on Vertu.
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There is no conscience under expensive fur. |