Текст песни Луперкаль feat. SharOn - Санаторий Сатаны

the hardest thing to escape from a prison with no locks
will distort the shutter of another ripe misanthrope
with the sole purpose of spreading your wings and flying high
how many more similar miracles this year will bring - leap
Satan's Sanatorium, Beelzebub sips SUNTORY
and is ready to give the realization that bringing pain
sick of everything and everything
in a position to spit on laws and are ready to write off everything on karma
not leave a stone unturned of faith in this man-bakery

as if Ibra Toshiba-beauty loser is lousy
lively into the bar - fill in what would have never happened anyway
in this place all people are machines, with damage to the operation of modes
cold blood runs cold in veins, this path of the possessed
madness and hunger, this eternal youth was cut with an awl
spenders try their luck by the tail while gin dies in a jug
and people crowd behind the screen, because the choice is quite extensive
a trip in Kashirka must lubricate the last bearing
black market, white merchandise falling into the general zashkvar
and at best, your chance for love is Annette Schwartz
the nauseating shmar washes the track and not a bit sorry
the sanatorium is not elm street, it's a terrible nightmare
tied. chained by one - transmission of infection
these channels are ready to carry the gene of the final phase behind you
and ready to celebrate eternity in these vicious circles
every first familiar with the UK, you woke up and again this groundhog day
here they walk on horns, because they don't care about the road to the clouds and only a booth
daily interrupted by targeted sounds like clap
and the squirrel will always find this righteous path to this hell for fools
contact is established and the engine of this mess is clearly working
the silence of the coming morning will crush the membranes of someone
the district is shrouded in fog, a burning church without a dome
the bullet hit my temple. praise to the horned one! heat
a hole in the middle of the dance floor in the abode of black humor
and attempts to escape, but no one is forgotten and nothing is forgotten
Thought police will eat you like Winston Smith's London
in the meantime, it serenely takes you to where the boundaries are blurred
every pounded cube or drunk liter
enjoying the view of the elite ...