I remember the wallpaper on the wall, flowers in divorces,
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I remember I have to leave, the time is close.
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Mercedes ML, me and Martin in it,
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What is a living bro, okay, and you?
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Music is pouring for labor, patrol sirens,
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Since childhood, it has been blowing me like a leaf in the wind.
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If you take a step forward, then don't be afraid.
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Here with weapons, robbery, and not pushing shit.
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In the cross seal, yours are silent,
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And you have been mooing here since the time of Ilyich.
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And we have been chasing for a long time and the whole gray head,
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There is no way to start over here.
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Let the separation sing litter to the goat,
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And we do not slouch our backs in the world of separation.
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Who will pay for the road to me in my spring.
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I'm tired, brother. |
I am without legs, without arms,
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Chorus:
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Few roads traveled, but darkness of mistakes,
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Under the sirens of garbage we go into the fog.
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The dogs were barking around, but the caravan was moving,
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Perhaps somewhere I was rude, huh?
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Few roads traveled, but darkness of mistakes,
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Under the sirens of garbage we go into the fog.
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The dogs were barking around, but the caravan was moving,
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Perhaps somewhere I was rude, huh?
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I remember my hands are covered in blood, I wanted to smoke,
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Someone wrote a confession, but I did not speak.
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Then there will be one descent, there will be no railing.
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My heart has always told me that you want to take it.
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I remember from childhood pampering, legs in kinship,
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But, as usual, they imprisoned everyone for stealing.
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I remember the first ears, I remember the first trunk,
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I remember garbage being strangled for rubbing under the leaves.
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Then they came under kneading, a lawsuit,
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They bazaared something, endured it, and I didn’t go into the bazaar.
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What are you going to tell the court, Mekhryakov, I'm here.
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They f*cking recklessly, listen, your honor.
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I'm free and it's spring, but duv bi knew
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Years were lost in the zone, I did not know the buyback.
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There are advantages in this, I learned to live,
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I prefer to remain silent rather than speak.
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Chorus:
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Few roads traveled, but darkness of mistakes,
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Under the sirens of garbage we go into the fog.
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The dogs were barking around, but the caravan was moving,
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Perhaps somewhere I was rude, huh?
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Few roads traveled, but darkness of mistakes,
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Under the sirens of garbage we go into the fog.
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The dogs were barking around, but the caravan was moving,
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Perhaps somewhere I was rude, huh?
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December, 2015. |