Текст песни band пвх - шта

vyser decaying brain
Look deeper - to the bone,
even further - to the very soul.
my insides - the usual Khrushchev,
piped groans from the windows of the quarrel,
morning tea with industrial salt,
Fut access, store duri-
my dear madhouse, where I patient and the King, where Dr.
in a black robe.
I can not understand that kills more
bullet, news, coffee, kissing
silent fuss or screaming silence.
my awkward loneliness, but not pretty
in his youth at the first love,
and beating, Porcelain, Ming dynasty.
point, amen. oskloki everywhere, questionable plyusy-
for me not to come from the back, to me at all
you can not go