The book takes away from the first sheet, poke cubes into the vein
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One hundred out of a hundred give your life a boost
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Up to the sky from the needles jumped bam-bam, Bigelow
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Ebashit like Desert Eagle batkin flow
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Gypsy fucking wagon, kill time, get into tone
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Music box on a par with a jamb
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The level of corpses, on which the tramp, without a trace
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Deliver decibels of sound from builders to Mariks
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Dreams in detail and not remember - fuck off
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The conversations of the gods, the rivers overflowed their banks
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Look for me on the scales, hourglass hands
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At this blue time, don't expect salvation
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I smoke and fuck all the earthquakes
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Music, plants, the box is not the last
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And soon the bottom of the birth, and the lips are again in the foam
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You can’t catch, plump, dangerous movement
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I play with the shadow, I wake up the green
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It spreads, even an old stump moves its rolls
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First in this thread, not killed by you from birth
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Fucked up will come to the system, let's kill me
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My patience has run out, I am without money, I am the king of idleness
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(Fuck fart!)
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Pathologists saw us cry
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Under the heads at the exit in the brain there are only scribbles
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Let the madhouse go, I beg you, I'm an asphalt-colored dove |
I would flutter in the sky and do somersaults there
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Blacker than a black bulik, the system rivets us like that,
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But this crazy body had all the evil in life
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I grabbed air masses, our style
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- unripe cherries, you feel stuffy
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We will not burn like cigarette butts, walking along your towers
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You were run over by an ambulance from a music box
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From the bong like a bat in the bath, densely killed - not by you
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We are chops for the brain, like fucking with boots
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Catch points in a vein, hit a blowball with a hair dryer
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A well-fed salad with vegetables, a couple of liters for the kidneys
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They belched at your wars, we are for good all over the world
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And they leaned on him
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To your soapy tunes dance the bastards themselves
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I would like to be Dorian Gray, but you've been dead for a day
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Call the firemen, and damn it, everyone went crazy and blew it away
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From the music box, everyone overdosed hapanuli
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The soul will not become stones, wisely grabbed in the distance
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The measure measured the meaning, do not go there with giblets
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Don't go there with giblets
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Four letters in columns, daydreams with miracles
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My fucking friends think I'm a bastard
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Four strange letters stood side by side again
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Hearse on bricks 180 along the Moscow Ring Road |
Your pina colada I've tainted with poison
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The music box screamed black obscenity
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Help 3 basement acrobats find jobs
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Your body is at gunpoint, monkeys with guns
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In a hole three meters deep there is no price for your carats
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Did the job - should I hide the body, or what?
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I trust impudent, scoundrels and rollers
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Decided to get away from fate? |
Found by fingerprints
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In this place, the price of your riddles is ugly
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Boxes, boxes, boxes, but the arms are short
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Reach for the brains that lie at the bottom of the river
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A young shell, in it are rotten old men
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All nightmares are behind us, ghosts do not believe in us
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Cut off the heads of the axes, drive them into the jambs
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Sound amplitude causes colic
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From such fashionable melodies, fashionistas would be fucked
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The curious are swept out in the morning by janitors
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Black squares and circles and triangles
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Righteous and guides from the word "watermen"
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In shit your slippers will slip out from under your feet
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Here, on the blackest day, the lights can smolder
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What seemed like hell turned out to be someone's ass... |