Текст песни бессмысленная помойка - pohodnaya

i hate every early rise
how i hate making a fire in the rain
I hate a can with porridge left in the afternoon
I hate those who are stupid before going out
- here -
- not -
- room for aggression -
I feel sick, but
tea is not thrown into boiling water,
and over the edge I'll brew myself a thermos of coffee

I hate the sugar that made the rain wet us
I hate turbots with uncomfortable soles
i hate knee pain when going downhill
I hate to sing out loud, but let's say
- to me -
- it's a pity -
- almost came, do not noah -
under a veil of compressed eyelids
I keep climbing up
and the cold of the night licks the sleeping bag, everything is meaningless

the transition was tightened in a loop, I did not expect better
the last one seeing off a ray of the sun's ridge,
and the firmament is indifferent from the stars,
but it seems to me it's too late to rejoice

a week will pass, an eternal route will pass
I look forward to warmth and new meetings with friends,
what will hurt, I wait for it to be easy
and I hope this is not my last trip