Текст песни Лев Иуда - Внутренняя Монголия

Boundless horizon,
concrete palisade that surrounds the homeless garrison.
Echoes, languid bugle moan -
from the throat of the city choked voice
they rush headlong, as a rider.
Landscapes cascade.
With cornices fray ash
buried alive herd.
A well-fed mold, capturing everyone here has healed sweet.
Yet

Life in a black boiler boiling,
Blood stuck scum,
and bones beating about the bottom -
throw them on the table!
This backgammon scale XXcom.
Root catgut
It makes the seam on a dead field of Bermuda.
Hundreds of Trees here, there from
sagging stumps sticking out of the soil -
This cult of Yama.
Black Raven knocking into the empty window with their beaks.
He is playing for time with the shutters and, sorry, will see
a world that hide the sound of & quot; & quot ;. Amen

Will I
digest all that he call & quot; abulia /
stew rot & quot ;?
Man of the beehive,
your little world - this idyll.
Well, shit - within me.