Текст песни Freak Syndrom - Враг Народа

The fat bastard, buried in the sofa,
Bitter resentment at the world.
He is lazy and stupid, weak and drunk.
His case - to store fat.

It does not really change the reasons
The news is visible problem.
An obvious lie: he is not alone,
Just living the whole country.

This you call them people?
I'm called enemies of the people!

Mamkin rebel Kitchen policies
Thunderstorm social networks.
Ssyklo, marginal, stupid and whiner
The other hates people.

But there is no reason in itself to question,
At the rally gave the answer.
Hundreds of people like it, parasites,
Horns spoil parquet.

And if they are a nation
Then I'll be enemies of the people!

Trendy bar, which millions
Pleased with himself poseur.
True to the idea of ​​the conveyor clones:
Who does not have - on fire!

Smile moron, empty eyes
And shine cheap Ponte.
But his whole life on the brakes,
Like shit million varieties.

Such as it is the people?
Then I'm sure - the enemy of the people!