Текст песни Летающие свиньи - Праздник смерти

In the eyes of its hidden these rabid animal fear,
Blood batters on the brain,
Feast on the verge of death, not tais in his den:
He will find you there.
To die in his bed among white grace -
It's stupid and ridiculous,
Suppress your callousness, because in your den stuffy
And struck a window.

You breathe in the cold wind blowing, as the newspaper,
As the bullet pierced the flag.
Be a shame, a gray mass that at the bottom, mouth agape,
Do not understand you in any way,
Show them their insignificance and sprinkle these faces
Red liquid theirs,
Show them the feast of death, blood feast in bright light
Razvorochennoy people (bones).