Текст песни с т а р а т е л ь н о р е ф л е к с и р у ю - о б щ е с т в о м е р т в ы х п о э т о в

a man stands with his legs spread wide on the desk,
he looks very shabby and does not raise his eyelids,
his hands languish in his pockets with a destroyed look in his eyes,
he only looks straight and wants to say something.

without opening his eyes, looks through the eyelids and eyelids,
days are as long as life is short.
undeniable dogmas, empty bodies and four walls,
how we need a life that we do not need.

why do dead poets always have sad, living eyes,
no one just listened to them when they tried to say
that art is rotting against the background of artificial days,
because abortions skillfully take out particles of children.

another heart stopped and a man fell,
the days hated him and he escaped,
and now his body lies forever, for lack of the right to rot,
even worms do not dare to touch what people cannot appreciate.