Текст песни Ли Тература - помятый

in bags under the eyes
many dark nights spill
that others can not dream.
many corridors bend bellies
of different fillings.
before the outstretched hand
those bridges to the outlets where
for the intersection of opportunity
naive, because our greenhorns shoots
creeping fingers in chips, closing
hatches from any exclamations.
such curved paths eye in the sky.
apparently there is still life in the mess,
where it should not be at all,
but there is the place.

protein squared wheel.
welcome to the world with by a dick at the ready
one way. hello dream
while I am here defines with its
Roundtable.

overripe along the walls,
assort torn tickets
bored at the sight.
sick of food for thought.
picture with audio tracks are not the same,
Well, let! most importantly, between pleasant.
horror to beauty. and this does not take away.
and why?

"and you? and you? and you? you?
I clean it! "- usually yells the most battered.

charge clips blank, despite
the high level of complexity -
the only thing that unites
our bags under the eyes.