Текст песни MC Val - Они Будут Крутиться В Гробах

Every night I wake up, seeing the faces of the dead
Children without hands, maniacs in pants
These empty eyes and scream at the end of the corridor
Rushes echoes or screquitated with nails under the floor
Protruding as icons, funny faces on the walls
TrollFace from children's blood mixed with sperm
House in Winchester, I see in this room
The broken corpse of the child in the packages wrapped
Sweet smell from the basement of fresh desic
Plounted women, quartered men
Piercing heads, brains with blood admixture
Gore smell of flesh, which has recently burned
Look around, maybe one of them goes from behind
Potentially you dead in advance, by the way
They always come to Java and in my dreams,
But while I am writing, they will spin in coffins