Текст песни Ливень - Классический депресняк на исходе лета

Inhaling smoke and dust, lead the conversation with God
In the language of the epics, the language of the deep
In the language of courts, the language of the prospectus
But, but great slang cities
Not cut into the soul master.

Breathe blue smoke and think about death (the flesh)
The folly of love and sweetness varies
I am a new Don Quixote. I'm an angel in the whirlwind (on the decline)
I am wondering on the blood veins of the lustful.

No groan, no poetry, no dreams, no inspiration
All the same outside sad place
I assemblage of sins and pristine laziness
And late to start from scratch

Classic depresnyak in late summer
Sky lights in ridiculous wound dream ... dream ... dream ...
Years - on the mountain. Wolf howl time to
With the sun in unison sataneet moan
Classic depresnyak at the end of the summer ...