Текст песни Михаил Башаков - Обида

Track 7 from the album "Above" (2011)

I came out of the clouds slowly
I pulled the anti-stress.
Skilful measured circuit
Age, weight and aykyu.
Brisk spokes quickly
Tied comfortable noose. -
Violence done to me so wide,
She can not hide in your pocket!

Great Death draws
Strokes on my face.
I see her beginning -
On the oak in the chest in the egg.
Poison soiled tip of the needle,
The ear threaded the rope.
You're not off the ground, you're not on the ground
And do not say that you're on.

Me ritual studied
And it is quite measurable:
Any barbarian drawn there,
Where suffocating Rome.
Solemn dominant -
But there will be more verse:
Violence done to me there is high,
Where no top or bottom, no!

It will clean these vaults -
Wipe with a glass soot!
Today, in our hands is not a creature -
Today, we are keeping the creature.
Warm the stomach, slippery paws
Looking through it, the emphasis:
Violence done to me does not give
On cunning and persuasion.

Taunt, pain, patience
The desire not to awaken.
If you want the truth,
It is better not to hurry.
Wait until the spilled
Answers Age-Aquarius.
Insult my not hide anywhere,
She climbs out of all the cracks! ..

With such unbridled sense
He stepped on the threshold of the air -
And here I am standing there already,
Where is all that I could not.
"Goodbye ..." - a century of stops,
"Hello!" - Age of speed.
Violence done to me will not hurt:
It equilibrium parts.