Neponyatki
It's smoke from the Windows, my little promise to you, among the sversnikami game, brother I'm not cold, woven manage under the maelstrom would have floated with dust, who was born stitched, but the thread has left reality, broke Balabanov, gave us little danta, mantra foretold unknown Napalm, scored on a ball played, but I Kotz for the idea, on paper my thoughts, that's what you wanted that rushing these ideas - can't buy loot, then age for a thrill can climb up in the scoreboard, old friends - turtles ninja armor is strong but the dope is ruled by the coriander in her fucking life to do the buzz cut wood, let's burn coal for life, for our actions in response, just us censorship hides Bungah brother in...The Chinese really do not understand them. Some provocateurs in the matter of nothing.
Cooking at altitude. Pray, bitches.
Really, all fled.
21st century stage puffy eyelids, lost souls, the priority - laughter, slain by the mind though not in years, alas, will not help, export only, it's all hectic bro, inside the concrete dust, under a ton rot themselves were chronile...
This Dec too old for my songs.
Frost like blade, he will meet us.
Oh, if we would be a bit smarter
In the realization of their actions
The loss meant so little to
To say goodbye to no one.
Like the string of a scaffold squeezing throat muscles.
I do not care* I am persistent, though, and what little I'm worth.
In this world too expensive to be independent.
Where I am, there my thoughts. At*b*t principles.
All the "knights" have long cherished the ass by the fireplace
And in that time, I with goose bumps writing hymns.
This winter, that takes too much effort
Those who believe in anything.
Never asked to feel sorry for me,
But if only cause pity,
Put out the fire, my fluffy snow
— It will be more painful perhaps
Welcome to the Dec.
Cold is not a pity
I just wish
That there is no sense in every step.