Текст песни ARMAGEDDON - Навзрыд

Eighties of the past century
Forty thousand years.
Brad mad father molded me into the person
Through four promile
Follow the instructions.

Completing the third volume of linguistic nonsense,
The Charter to create,
I - Sóller, I am funny, lie jealous neighbor
He leads another whore.
Read her passages of Chronicles.

Lived winter sobbing ...

Thirty-ninth of unaccrued summer
One hundred and forty thousand years ago,
Brad mad I smashed the wind around the planet,
I discredit Christ, reflected in the faces of fools and bitches.

Do not rush on tiptoe in the dark, cold here.
In the wild storm was gathering,
Fighting through prophetic cracks
Achieving that is planned.

Do not rush to tiptoe into the darkness. Cold....