Текст песни Кот Шрёдингера - Атмосфера

Stationary atmosphere
I waved on everything as an airplane wing
I would have an Anya instead of faith
Yes, I would not think about anything
And score on black humor
On white poems
Yes, everything that wrote
And everything is not with that hands
Shorter nafig doesn't rush not roll
And Dostoevsky - not my writer

And in the pure field either blasting
And in the blue sky shoals chicken grill
Hey Harmonist Call "Clawfinger"
Robbles in trance your kadril
And turned out to be a lady staged
Eternal love
Kisses gently on the lips
Yes broke into blood
But oddly rings in pockets
Save the drunkenness my nirvana