Текст песни Михаил Елизаров - Патологоанатом

Harsh pathologist
Furiously shreds a corpse,
Whistles and swears
And tries a scalpel on a tooth.

Growing up from an eerie mission,
Digging through the gossips of the guts
He is everything that he finds in the stomach
Disgustedly throws it into the bag.

Having collected a council of thoughts,
The anatomist in gross anguish
Like a fly, circling over the fallen
And pokes with a ground tooth.

What was the cause of death?
Is there a screwdriver in the side?
He twirls her thoughtfully
and scratches his temple with his finger.

And next to the blissful languor
Breathing on cold hands
Transparent and weightless
The soul wanders about the deceased.

She's like an old lady slouching
And wrinkles a tired face
Then he flies out into the street
Through a half-closed window.

There are angels or sparrows
They meet her with guilt
Grabbing the thin ribs
And gently carried away somewhere.