Текст песни Луперкаль - Похмельная Матрица

The everyday life drowns like kittens, pulling us up to the claws,
Reluctantly, and into the matrix of a hangover for hard workers.
Those who are more successful will turn into a fairy tale about Emelya
own life. And the losers are smoking bamboo.
The youth of course will be corrupted, she catches the excitement
Light filoks the way Cleaver catches pedophiles
Well, I myself used to cut words in a shabby Fila here
My antidepressant in these topics is to chop the meat.

Man is a wolf to man,
Someone's century here ended here.
Pulls the yoke, but did not notice the ox,
To be honest, I'm tired of these faces with roach eyes.

In the fools of the country, any message among the rags drowns,
It is a pity that politicians do not grow their noses here from lies.
Money trees have only dogs and crows of crows,
We are happy for the oblique that Pyongyang lives worse than us.
What should we do in Greece - with an accomplice at least once a year
In December to the beach, to be a bum there without worries.
And then again the airport will meet as gloomy as a morgue
The city under the snowdrifts and the fumes of hangover muzzles
It's not fucking fun when you see a crash
Outside the window at a construction site, the clouds are tormented by a crane
Imperceptibly somehow our souls freeze. Crab
Replaced the bumblebee, but what do we do with that? It's not caviar
For lunch. Allah himself gives money to someone.
The sun will leave behind an eye, then they surrendered without a fight
Hiring myself out of the vice that strangled like a coyote
And again the faceted silver is full to the brim.