Текст песни Дима Блог - Мёртвие души

Minute, minutes, all that was left in the morning
Ran out of ink, but not finished drawing
Sands will rise, which would do away with us
Well, until my turn

Stoch stones, tens of centuries ago
Apply the message, but we can not read
And we can not draw any conclusions, we just geeks
We are able to live at subsistence level

Minimum of praise, and we believe in myself
You our God, you're able to eliminate us
Whatever the obstacle,
And it comes with a gun, our formidable chief

Give us tea, sweets and more
And then staged a rally, killing himself in the square
Herd souls arrive, ask for living
And we go to heaven, you're our ubiquitous