Текст песни Мертвий Пiвень - Птахорiзка

It is a plentiful celebration of the poor with music,
Under the walls, where booze and shade.
This is a celebration of eating birds
In the light of departures and flutters.

The third birds cried out in the morning,
And the market forgot like a paradise forest.
So the heavy bodies of bloodless mistresses
Mr. Ptakhoriz shrouds in darkness.

His feathers are covered with black feathers,
And his hands, they say, are golden.
Music on the market. Vampire Sign
It is clear, like a flash, on the way.

He takes out of the body the warm soul of a bird
(his late father is a well-known executioner),
And at night it leads to a sweltering silence
Winged and singing girls.

Frightened cupids. Submarine dogs
Looking for a pitiful wing bone.
This is a massacre of angels - an angel,
This song flowed through the grooves.

We, having washed with beer the dried up brains,
Rolling the heavens into a thick roll,
Yes, and we eat on the porch of a bird chopper
In a city called Babylon