Текст песни макулатура - Основа писательской жизни

FUNDAMENTALS writing life

I am It's Complicated morning start an old car I
On weekdays, work on weekends to take poison
Clock up charging me as though their skin
But in the mouth fucked longer dream of high literature
More in two thousand fourth I was told "no trump
The ass does not know how to breathe once you two are not Jewish
One hundred years of the book you can not see how their own ears "
And here I am in the city of Al-door installer

Publishing zabrivayut me well and I Ssali them personally
And my style is becoming more epic day by day
Someone hollowed their way to the chimney someone
But that does not begin to write like Truman Capote
I then by tram to the subway from the house to the address
Bag packed with barely drag his ass to order
Parketka tartsovka jigsaw ebashut me in Ridge
I will throw all this fucking throw all leave for Tibet
Brain vyebut each time until you get to the paw
All fucked in their own way in each apartment its own smell
Dolby wall puncher in the pantry whining dog
In the next room is ninety years old grandmother moans
Okay, just get to a zero balance
Section debts and in the next town will live and enjoy

But in the evening at the bar going to have no time to recover
My choice fell today for the most types of smart gopnitsu
We say fuck with her take defends Jean-Paul Sartre
At the end of the dialogue in my groin is still not gambling
And I get drunk like Chinaski get up on the table, send all fuck
And I read aloud "A Cloud in Trousers"
Modest pizdyuley and pushed me out of the bar
"Beast of old cutlets" I yell but left without women
Okay chicks for homosexuals I also have hands
Fingering fuck tube coring fruit in
My city nightlife Al and I swelled with greatness
The house is walking great art just kitsch
Until the summer to live and dump such away to the south
Soon morning hangover I work here tired suddenly

It bases the writing life
Come on elective sign up to me
Pay and I will give stanza
The algorithm as in life to achieve greatness

Sorry I do not have a mustache, and I used to brush your teeth
Otherwise, I would come out of some shovels muden
Books to their fellow villagers gave booze
would overwhelm the municipal clerk in the mattress
No day without a line should be written for posterity
Leave behind so to speak creative seed
After all, even though I am a writer without a mustache and indifferent to vodka
I like to occasionally drop a few lines when I have time

I do not care to be honest after publishing
It employs some motherfuckers in short black
I'm a creative person writing strictly on the table
To my creativity volumes raged raznosol

Only in this way is forged steel just so I do shall
And fuck you like I do not sell antikonyunkturen
I'm the one medic literature on whom rests all this garbage
That is, the literary process

In short I do not doze I make, day and night
I suffer as Dostoevsky taught Merezhskovsogo
I sit in front of icon lamp tormented I make
After all, the fate of the fatherland and the state honor at stake

When Dmitry Bykov discovers talents
I really want to poke his asshole shtaketinu
After all, I zaebatelsky writer instead of poppy
My creativity will open a long time for the children

It bases the writing life
Come on elective sign up to me
Pay and I will give stanza
The algorithm as in life to achieve greatness

Now Every year younger dumber capricious luck
I checked Jam true art of life
Earn three rubles calm down a little conscience
Himself to the floor finish that story on Thursday
The guard newsboy journalist freelancers
Farther
Then women rarely more often drinking masturbation
Dawning click is heard inside the snow melts in the summer smells
I have lived in three lives without doing anything in this dream
Become a sociopath bark at dog painted on the window
Loud cursing standing idle in the store queue
Invented only never change the favorite
Hang on the wall of his own view of the world
Breathe on the glass of the aquarium fucking
To sleep without dreams take prescription buy